


No Quarter

by Pentamatr



Series: Thunder on the Mountain [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, M/M, Romance, Takes place immediately after AUJ, mentions of sibling incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 103,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pentamatr/pseuds/Pentamatr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erebor stands before them, still only a dot on the horizon, and Bilbo is <i>tired.</i> Yet he is also filled with a renewed sense of adventure as well as relief that Thorin finally accepts him. He belongs, and even if the dwarves didn't think so before, they know it now. It doesn't make the road ahead any easier, their enemies any farther behind, or the feelings Bilbo starts to develop for the company leader any wiser, but he accepted his fate the moment he walked out his front door. He just wasn’t aware of what it would cost him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Continuing the Journey

**Author's Note:**

> They’re wearing steel that's bright and true  
> They carry news that must get through.  
> They choose the path where no-one goes.  
> They hold no quarter.
> 
>    
> Many thanks and love to my beta/sanity: cakelydemise

After gazing at the small peak of Erebor for what felt like ages, great cries from the eagles made the company of Thorin Oakenshield look up to find small game being dropped down to them. They cheered and shouted their thanks, owing their lives again to the eagles of Manwë, and roasted a somewhat decent meal over the fire Gandalf provided. Despite having their bellies full and their wits returned, it soon became clear that the dwarves found no comfort in staying on the top of what Gandalf referred to as the "Carrock" for much longer. 

“But it is quite the beautiful view!” the wizard exclaimed, watching as they looked around for a way down.

“Dwarves are not fond of heights, Master Wizard,” Balin grumbled. The others nodded, and Bilbo whimpered as he peeked over the edge.

“Especially after flying on the backs of eagles,” he added. “No, I should very much like to reach steady, solid ground again and not sleep where I can roll over and plummet to my death.” This earned a few dark chuckles and a world weary sigh from Gandalf.

“There are steps if you will kindly follow me, although I warn you they are narrow and deserve a great deal of caution when in use. Or else you _will_ plummet to your early deaths,” he mumbled to himself. Bilbo could easily see what the wizard meant when the company started to descend, letting a few go ahead of him to see how they went about it. He held his breath as he watched Thorin lean against Dwalin for support, his injuries too much for him to handle alone on such precarious steps, and they both just barely seemed to fit. Bilbo found himself immediately going behind them, as if he could possibly lend a hand to the two burly dwarves, yet he was oddly comforted by focusing on the steps they took in front of him instead of focusing on the sharp drop to his right. He didn’t dare look anywhere else besides the stuttered movements of the king, listening to the murmured words of support coming from Dwalin.

“Keep it up, laddie, we’re almost there. Careful…” Thorin cursed as he stumbled a bit, Dwalin’s arm tightening around him instantly and no doubt disturbing his injuries, but the king soon chuckled.

“We spoke of what we would face on this journey back when you agreed to join me.”

“Aye.”

“Yet we failed to mention our past coming back to kill us, of _mountains_ trying to kill us, or a race of eagles coming to our rescue. Do you not find it odd?”

“I find every _day_ of this journey odd.”

When the king let out a harsh laugh, Bilbo found it difficult to tell if he was truly amused or just bitter, but then he supposed it could have been some of both. He smiled sadly as a result.

“I certainly wouldn’t have guessed it,” he said quietly. Thorin turned his head, unable to face Bilbo but vaguely speaking in his direction.

“We have seen more of this world than you have, Master Baggins, yet on this journey none of us seem to know what is to come.”

“That’s what a journey is, though, isn’t it? You can’t always know what comes next.”

“Aye, and you seem to be proof of that.” 

Bilbo fell silent, feeling certain that Thorin meant it as a compliment. He found his cheeks had turned warm just like they had when the king hugged him, and he smiled despite himself.

Soon they had all finally descended to the base of the Carrock, where a cave of decent size awaited to shelter them and a river (according to some of the joyous cries of the dwarves) provided refreshing water for drinking and bathing. Already some of the company were stripping, much to Bilbo’s embarrassment, and heading for the water.

“Join us, Mister Baggins!” Kíli called out, chasing after his nude brother.

“I, well, I don’t…” Bilbo watched as the prince crashed through the bushes that blocked the view of the river, although the splashes and shouts coming from the other side made it well known what the company was up to. Truthfully he felt revolting with blood (mostly not his own), sweat, and grime caked into all of the wrong places, but even though he shared much with the company nowadays, he still wasn’t entirely comfortable bathing alongside others. He even stopped bathing with his cousins after a certain age! Respectable hobbits simply didn’t−

“ _Mahal._ ” 

His thoughts faltered when he heard the low snarl and his attention was drawn to Thorin sitting on nearby rock, slowly removing his clothing and wincing with almost every movement. Pity stirred in Bilbo’s chest and before he could remember his propriety from a moment ago, he found himself offering to help the king. “Go along with the others,” Thorin said gruffly. “Óin is busy preparing the ointment for my wounds and may be some time yet.”

“Shouldn’t you at least bathe before he puts it on?” the hobbit asked gently. “There’s no real use in treating a dirty wound. My, uhm, my mother used to tell me that.” He looked down and carefully unbuckled the gauntlet the king was having trouble with.

“Was she a healer?”

“She was considered one amongst our people. We never had many terrible injuries, of course, mostly sickness. I do believe she saved many lives during some of our worst winters by her herbs and salves alone.”

“I saw her portrait above your fireplace.” Bilbo started and looked back up at Thorin, but before he could ask how he knew who she was, the king went on. “Only you look remarkably like her. You have the same curls, and the same eyes. You only share your honeyed locks with your father.” Thorin cleared his throat, his eyes slipping away from Bilbo. “Perhaps it was rude of me to speculate−”

“No, that’s quite all right,” the hobbit shook his head. “I didn’t think you took much notice of my home that night. You seemed otherwise occupied.”

“I was, but if I may say so she was difficult to overlook.”

“I’m sure if she were alive she would be very flattered to hear you say that.”

“From an old dwarf?”

“Especially from.” Thorin smiled at this, making something happy burst in Bilbo’s chest. A smile from the solemn king felt like a rare gift, and Bilbo certainly treasured it. “Anyway, you’re not that old.”

“By your hobbit standards and according to men, I am.”

“Well, whatever number you go by, I certainly wouldn’t want to go against you in battle.” Thorin was about to respond, but winced as they attempted to remove his mail. “Sorry,” Bilbo murmured. “I have never seen so many layers before! How do you even manage to walk?”

“Practice,” the king chuckled. “It serves a warrior well, for my wounds would be fatal if I had no such protection. I should make you armor, burglar, for if it had been you in the jaws of that warg...” He seemed to think better than to complete the thought, though his stormy expression told Bilbo how he felt about it. The hobbit shook his head, chasing away the frightful image of being the white warg’s dinner.

“But I am much quicker on my feet without armor weighing me down,” he said, hoping to soothe the king’s troubled thoughts.

_And now I have my ring,_ he remembered, although he didn’t voice it.

“If that is the case, then I would give you armor made of mirthril were it not so rare.”

“Mithril?”

“A mighty ore more coveted than gold that is stronger than any armor we can forge today, yet lighter than you could imagine, as if you were wearing feathers.”

“That sounds lovely.” After Bilbo set aside the rest of the dwarf’s armor, he turned back to study the puncture marks and the blood that stained Thorin’s tunic. “We all could have used such armor,” he winced.

“It is not as bad as it looks.”

“But it must hurt.”

“You worry over nothing, kind hobbit, I assure you.” When he finally removed his tunic, Bilbo struggled to hold back a gasp at the amount of dried blood caked along his side, as well as the bruises that littered his torso. To have gone almost an entire night and well into the morning without treatment made the hobbit feel faint, but as he watched Thorin rise stiffly to his feet, he could almost believe the old legend that dwarves were made of stone. “Thank you, Bilbo. If I may say so, the care I have received from your hands alone would make your mother proud.” 

Bilbo blushed, but said with a chuckle, “She would box my ears if she knew the amount of trouble I was getting into.” Thorin’s laugh was a low rumble. “But I suppose she would also be proud of me for walking out my front door. It is a rather dangerous business after all,” he added softly, averting his eyes when Thorin started removing his trousers. When the king gave a low hum of agreement, Bilbo was suddenly struck with the ease at which they conversed (with one of them _stripping_ no less!) and found it curious how quickly things could turn. “I’m happy I did,” he went on.

“As am I,” the king murmured, “and I must apologize.” Startled, Bilbo forgot his state of undress and looked up at him.

“Oh!” He squeezed his eyes shut and felt a blush heat his cheeks. “I’m sorry!” Thorin responded with a soft chuckle and a hand on his shoulder.

“You have already found that dwarves are not as modest as hobbits, so you do not offend me. However, we do consider it polite to look at one another when an apology is being made.” 

Bilbo huffed and slowly cracked one eye open, then the other until he could handle the sight of the completely naked king. It was one thing to have his thoughts of what the warrior's chest must look like confirmed− broad, muscular, and impressive despite his injuries− yet quite another to realize he had muscles in places Bilbo didn’t even think possible. He had no doubt that his blush was extraordinary by now.

“Very well,” he said, trying hard to focus only on Thorin’s eyes. “Why are you apologizing?”

“For the way I have treated you on this journey.”

“Oh.” Bilbo had indeed been hurt by the dwarf on many occasion, but was certainly inclined to forgive him the moment the hug occurred on the Carrock. “It’s fine,” he said quietly.

“No.” Thorin gazed down at him, blue eyes unexpectedly soft. “You saved my life, Bilbo Baggins, and for that I owe you my allegiance.” The hobbit found himself shaking his curly head. “I must insist−”

“What I would like,” Bilbo said, smiling timidly as sudden realization came over him, “is for us to be friends and for me to be treated like a proper member of the company. To me that means we respect each other, but I ask you not to treat me any differently than you would the others.”

Thorin paused, then smiled, then _laughed!_ Bilbo felt ashamed for the second time that night, but soon he found a firm hand pressing gently on his shoulder.

“Gandalf was right when he said hobbits are full of surprises. I would be honored to be your friend, Master Baggins.”

“Then please,” the halfling said, a smile lifting the corners of his lips, “call me Bilbo.”

"And to you I am Thorin; at your service." The king gave a small bow as he stood back. "Now, to relieve my friend of his anxieties for my health, I shall take my leave. Unless..." He hesitated, but the smile that was still on his lips made Bilbo want to accuse him of mockery, or worse, _playfulness._

"Nope," he shook his head, "you go on. I will do my bathing in private like a proper hobbit."

_That smile makes him look positively rakish,_ Bilbo couldn’t help but think.

"Very well. Until later, Bilbo."

"Ahem, uh, yes," the hobbit nodded. "Later...Thorin− oh, by Yavanna," he muttered as the dwarf turned to slip through the bushes, squeezing his eyes shut after getting yet another eyeful of Thorin's nakedness.

"My, Bilbo, you are as red as a tomato," came a voice, "are you well?" With a great sigh, Bilbo turned to find Gandalf approaching him.

"Fine, really, never better." He found that, despite his embarrassment, Thorin had left him with a feeling of happiness and relief.

"I couldn't help but overhear that you are now in our company leader's good books. I really must congratulate you." Gandalf's wry humor was enough to make Bilbo smirk.

"Well, I did save his life."

"That you did, my boy.” At this the wizard’s gaze grew stern as he leaned forward on his staff, causing Bilbo to shrink back. “And may I say that it was the most foolhardy act I have ever seen anyone partake in!"

"It was,” the hobbit winced, “but I didn't know what else to do."

"You do understand what you did, what it means to Thorin and what you showed the other dwarves?"

"That I will risk my life for him?" He was curious to see Gandalf’s expression slip into one of surprise for a moment.

"Well, yes. They see that now and will expect that of you every time Thorin's life is in danger. They have all pledged to protect him and each other, and now you have done so as well. To hesitate means betrayal, Bilbo. Are you ready to continue risking your life for this dwarf?"

The hobbit's head swam with this information, wondering just what he had gotten himself into, yet something in the back of his mind easily accepted this. It was inevitable, really, since they were all in this together. Erebor needed Thorin, and the dwarves needed Erebor. It was only logical to protect the king who was going to fight for his kingdom, only to return it to its former glory so his people may thrive again. Even if Bilbo wasn’t technically among his people, he was now his friend, and hobbits took that role very seriously indeed.

"Although he's very fond of you, Bilbo,” Gandalf went on. “I wouldn't worry that he isn't looking out for you as well as you are looking out for him." But the wizard was stroking his beard with an unreadable expression on his face. "Still, I advise you to use caution. Dwarves are silly creatures." Even as Bilbo asked him what he meant by that, he would only reply cryptically. Whatever Gandalf found "silly" about dwarves (other than what Bilbo would label instead as "loud" or "eccentric" or "messy") the hobbit was just going to have to find out for himself.

_As I've done with everything else on this journey,_ he thought not too bitterly, although his thoughts were interrupted when Gandalf continued talking.

“In any case, they had better protect you once I am no longer around−”

“W-what?” Shock overcame Bilbo and his eyes grew wide. “What do you mean?” 

“Master Hobbit,” Gandalf said sternly, “there are other, more pressing matters that I need to tend to. It was never my intention to be with Thorin’s company the entire way. Now, I have seen you through the mountains safe enough, and I will bring you to my friend if he will have you, but this journey is not mine to make.”

“Does Thorin know?” he asked, tears in his eyes. This new knowledge threatened to send him into another panic, and his heart sank

“I told him in the beginning that I would not always accompany him, but I will remind him of that before I go. Bilbo,” the wizard said more gently, “you are clever and brave, even more so than I first gave you credit for, and you are in good hands. You are a member of this company, under the protection of Thorin Oakenshield and twelve other dwarves, and you have shown them your worth. What have you to fear?”

“I fear for them,” he admitted. “If it wasn’t for you, we could have been eaten by wargs, or trolls, or goblins. Gandalf, every time we’ve fallen into trouble, you’ve been the one to save us!”

“Yet who was the one to stall the trolls, hmm? Who got themselves out of the caverns of Goblin Town?”

“But I only saved myself.”

“And if given the chance, you will save your company members. I am sure of it.” The way Gandalf finalized his argument yet again left Bilbo floundering once more, tears still in his eyes and his chest tight for reasons both known and unknown. He just did not seem to think this would end well, and what little faith he had in himself was already stretched to the limit. It was only when a hand came down to gently cup his cheek that he allowed himself a shaky sigh. “All will be well, Bilbo,” Gandalf murmured. “I would never have asked any more of you other than what you were able to give, but you are able to give more than you can ever know.” Even if Bilbo had to think over those words and their meaning for a moment, he understood that the traveling wizard had an outstanding amount of faith in him.

“And they truly see me that way as well?” he asked, referring to the company.

“My dear Bilbo, they are simply blind if they do not. Now, I have a king to consult with. I do believe his wounds are being treated, but it is quite urgent.” When the hand lifted from his shoulder and the wizard walked away, Bilbo wiped his tears away and quickly decided a bath would do well to calm his nerves.

_One day at a time, as mother would say._ He would think of her when it wasn’t too painful to do so, and talking about her to Thorin brought her to the forefront of his mind.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re shaking your head at me right now,” he murmured. “I know I should trust Gandalf− he’s your old friend after all− but I’m a stubborn worrywart of a Baggins!” When he found a secluded area of the river, he started first with carefully washing out his clothes, tutting over the holes and the missing buttons, before finally dipping in to wash himself.

He lost track of the amount of time it took to scrub himself clean, although the sun was slowly starting its descent in the sky by the time he was done with the worst of it. Only then did he relax when the last of the orc blood left his skin, and he sat back with a sigh. He was still unnerved from the events of the night before, of being surrounded by fire and cold-hearted hatred from the orcs, and of course from the near death of all the company members and Gandalf.

_And from Thorin nearly getting himself killed._

He shivered. No, he feared that unless something else horrible were to occur (although it seemed rather likely despite his burst of optimism on the Carrock) the events of that night would replay themselves in his dreams. For the first time, he sincerely did not look forward to sleep.

“Bother it all, but I just can’t seem to shake it,” he huffed, throwing his hands up and splashing the water around him. “Gandalf may say I’m brave, but that isn’t enough to stop nightmares. Why, I ought to ask him if he has a spell for deep sleep. That should−”

But his words were cut off as he heard footsteps and the rustling of branches nearby. Mortified, Bilbo sunk down into the water, brow furrowed and about to shout at the intruders, but his mouth snapped shut and curiosity took over as he recognized the faint voices of Gandalf and Thorin.

“−urgent business that requires my attention.”

“You told me before that you would leave us, but now of all times when we are on the border of Mirkwood?” There was a growl in Thorin’s voice that made Bilbo shiver, and he strained his ears to listen even further. They were not so very close to him as he first suspected, but his keen ears could still pick up their words. “You know even more than I the perils of these woods, what darkness they have fallen to, yet you would leave us.”

“It is precisely the darkness of these woods that I must see to! There is a force at work here much greater than that of your dragon, but if you were to leave that to me and stay only on the path then I assure you your journey will be a safe one.”

“And what of the elves? If they were to find us in their woods do you imagine we will be greeted with much kindness?”

“Only if you are diplomatic,” Gandalf grumbled. “You are a king now, and it would do you and your kingdom well to act like one!” Thorin growled something in his own language, to which Gandalf responded in the same tongue. Whatever was said, the dwarf finally hesitated.

“You remind me of my grandfather,” he finally said, his tone softer, “before the dragon sickness claimed him.”

“He was a very reasonable dwarf when it suited him,” Gandalf agreed. That earned a single note of laughter from Thorin, and he muttered something Bilbo couldn’t catch. “Do not be frightened,” the wizard responded. “Why, I only just told our burglar that. What happened to make you and your company doubt themselves?”

“Did you not see the Pale Orc?”

“Of course I did, and I saw a very foolish king and an equally foolish hobbit meet him head on.”

“And you saw how well we did,” he snorted.

“You didn’t allow your fear to show then, so why now when you are safe?”

“He’s still out there searching for us, and he knows now of Bilbo.” His voice was a barely heard murmur now. “Do not think he has forgotten our hobbit, Gandalf. He is after his blood as much as he is after mine and my nephews’.”

“I admit that I am not surprised to see Azog alive, but you have driven him away once before. Your doubt will not assist you, but do not mistake your fear for weakness. And you know better now than to doubt your burglar.”

“I told you before that I was not responsible for his fate.” At this, Thorin hesitated, and if Bilbo strained his ears any harder he was certain they would fall right off. “Yet I will protect him in any way that I can. I owe him that.”

“And you care for him, of course.” Thorin huffed, but Gandalf went on. “Don’t think you can fool me when it comes to matters of the heart, Thorin Oakenshield. I have been around long enough to see just how tight of a hold it has on the lives of even the greatest kings of this world. Don’t be stubborn.” Bilbo would have laughed if he wasn’t already sinking into the water out of embarrassment.

_Honestly,_ he thought to himself, quietly swimming away from the voices, _Gandalf is simply the nosiest wizard I have ever met! He would put Lobelia to shame! To think Thorin could see me as any more than a friend. Bah!_

And so he gathered up his damp clothes, slipping them back on before quietly making his way back to camp. Some of the company members had already returned, dressed only in long underwear and looking like themselves again as they surrounded another hearty fire. They were murmuring amongst themselves, though, strangely quiet and some in particular looked distressed. When he came to sit beside Bofur, however, the dwarf offered him a wink and a pipe.

“Oh, thank you,” Bilbo said, trying not to cough as he puffed the strange weed. Bofur always did have an odd taste, but the hobbit was too polite to decline a pipe when it was offered so freely.

“You deserve it, laddie. That was a brave thing you did.”

“What...ah, well, you know.” He mumbled again about how anyone would have done the same, but the dwarf shook his head.

“You were the only one quick enough to go to his aid. I saw Dwalin try, but he nearly fell to his death! Gandalf was smart to find a burglar as small as you.” He paused, then added, “I’m glad you stayed with us.” There was a warm twinkle in his eyes that Bilbo couldn’t help but respond to.

“Me too,” he smiled.

“A _skin-changer_ he said! I didn’t hear him wrong.”

“You shouldn’t have _heard_ anything in the first place!”

“But what does that mean?”

Bilbo and Bofur looked over to where Dori was whispering quite fiercely to his brothers and Glóin, his movements become more animated and his voice louder.

“Was wondering what they were on about,” Bofur commented.

“What does Dori mean by a skin-changer?”

“No idea, but he must have overheard Gandalf talking about it.”

Bilbo mulled over it as he smoked, thinking back on his conversation with the wizard. He seemed to remember Gandalf saying something, not about a skin-changer, but about a _friend_ or maybe−

“Oi!” Something hard had smacked into his back, pitching him forward and almost completely off the log he was sitting on if it weren’t for Bofur’s quick thinking. When he looked up, his friend’s arm was across his front preventing him from falling forward and big brown eyes were staring up at him from underneath messy, dark fringe.

“Sorry, Mister Bilbo,” Kíli said, quickly standing and dusting himself off. “Didn’t think anyone was sitting behind those bushes.”

“Honestly, lad,” the hobbit breathed, “you should be more− oh, for the love of...Fíli!” The blonde prince had popped out of the bushes as well, swiftly taking a seat right next to him and leaning into his shoulder. Bofur chuckled and grabbed the pipe from where Bilbo dropped it, saving the flame from going out completely.

"Gave our hardy burglar quite the fright, you did," he said.

“We didn’t give you a fright, did we, Mister Bilbo?” Fíli asked playfully, nudging him affectionately.

“Yes,” he grumbled, “and a back ache.” He rubbed the sore spot where Kíli had smacked into him. Really, the two were like colts who were still unaware of the consequences of having limbs. One look at the guilt in Kíli's eyes, though, and he knew he couldn't be angry with him. "Oh, don't worry," he huffed, "I'll survive. Did you lads have a good bath?" He felt as if he were talking to his younger cousins again and couldn't help but smile.

"Of course!" Kíli said. "Very, erm...refreshing." Fíli sniggered and it took a moment before Bilbo recognized the look they were giving each other. He glanced away, blushing and shaking his head while Bofur chuckled again.

"At least some of us get a bit of a release on this journey. You know what I mean?" He nudged Bilbo and the poor hobbit nearly fell off his seat again.

Their lightheartedness did not to extend to the rest of the company, and even though the two princes seemed unaffected by the growing tension, it was obvious the night wouldn’t end without something being said. So when Thorin was the last to come and complete the company, the silence that fell was quite restless.

“Our wizard has gone ahead of us,” he announced gruffly, wringing his hair out and throwing it behind his back. Bilbo vaguely wondered if he would be allowed to braid it, then quickly banished the thought. “He spoke to me of a friend who guards these woods, and we are to seek refuge with that person when the morning comes.”

“But he’s not a _person_ is he,” Dori stated. “He’s a skin-changer! How are we to trust him?” Mumbled agreements followed his words, while Bilbo wondered yet again what Dori meant.

“I spoke to Gandalf about it at length,” Thorin said, his voice rising above the rest. “I am unhappy with his candid information, but we have no other choice.”

“But what if we do?” Glóin spoke up. “What if he is keeping something else from us?”

“He has been known to do so,” Dori agreed. “Not the most talkative guide.”

“Or reliable,” Óin grumbled.

“But he has saved us many times!” Kíli reasoned. “How can you say he isn’t reliable?”

“Only after having abandoned us!” Dori said, voice rising again.

“If Thorin trusts him then why are we arguing?" Dwalin growled, causing Dori to hesitate, but not for long. Bilbo winced as the company erupted once again, their loud voices grating to his sensitive ears to the point where he stood up and moved away towards the treeline.

“You would think they would rather sleep than carry on so,” he mumbled to himself, stifling his own yawn. He was certainly ready to call it a night and not wake again for quite some time. “Bloody dwarves.”

“Sorry, Mister Bilbo.” The hobbit hadn’t realized he had come to stand next to Ori until the quiet lad spoke up. “We’re not that bad, I hope?” Bilbo smiled at the dwarf’s grin, and shook his head.

“No, I’m quite fond of you lot, but sometimes problems just need to wait to be sorted until the morning. I’m not even sure I understand the argument!”

“Oh, skin-changers from what I read can be quite fearsome. They look like men, but can change their shape into any kind of creature.”

“But that could be useful as far as protection goes. Imagine this skin-changer can turn into something that could fight off orcs and wargs for us!”

“They don’t really have control over their changed forms, though.”

“Oh.” Bilbo faltered, thinking it over. “Well, that could be bad then, but Kíli is right. Gandalf has always done right by us even if he’s difficult to understand. He wouldn’t lead us into harm.” He stretched his arms above his head and let out a yawn. “If they don’t shut it soon, though, I might have to make them.”

“I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, Mister Baggins,” Ori grinned. “After what you did for Thorin, you’re a bit scary.” Bilbo laughed.

“Really, Ori, I suppose I’ll never live it down.”

“Don’t see why you would want to,” the dwarf shrugged. Bilbo watched as the lad looked around, his lips falling into a small frown. “You haven’t seen Nori, have you?”

“Hmm? Wasn’t he just here?”

“He has a habit of wandering off,” Ori sighed. “I would go look for him, but my luck I would get lost.”

“I can have a look. If I can get away from fighting dwarves for a bit, I think my head would thank me for it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very much so. He can’t have gone far, anyway.”

"Well...okay, then."

With a nod Bilbo set off through the trees, thankful to be away from the noise but soon wondering just how he was supposed to look for Nori.

"Great," he mumbled after a while, "brilliant idea, looking for a dwarf in an unknown forest while the sun is going down. Will this day never end?"

“Burglar.”

The hobbit yelped, turning every which way to see where the voice had come from.

"N-Nori?" Something fell from the tree behind him, but when he turned he realized the dwarf had jumped down from it. “Ah, hello. Ori was wondering where you had gone off to.” Nori gave him a long, hard look before shrugging and taking a puff from his pipe.

“That lot makes my head ache,” he grumbled, to which Bilbo chuckled.

“I completely understand that. I do wonder how they manage to get anything accomplished.” Nori snorted, but continued to puff his pipe in silence. As Bilbo sobered, he rocked back and forth on his feet and tried to keep the conversation going. He had a sneaking feeling something was off with the dwarf tonight, but he didn’t understand him like he did some of the others now. One moment he was a fierce warrior and the next wandering off on his own as if he didn’t even belong to the group! “I’m sure they’ll figure things out soon enough,” he continued on quietly. “They’re a good company.”

_Even if they aren’t the brightest sometimes,_ he kept to himself.

“Aye, they are,” Nori conceded, “but sometimes I wonder if this quest is folly.”

“Oh?” Bilbo frowned. “Well, sometimes I think so too, but that’s only because I’m not used to living my life on the road and in constant danger. I think you dwarves do well for yourselves.”

“Yet all of the danger my brothers have been in is enough to make me rethink our choice of joining.” Bilbo could hear the sound of his teeth grinding down on the stem of his pipe in frustration. “I’ve gotten myself into trouble with the law more times than I can count, but I would live my life as a recluse if it meant what’s left of my family is safe and cared for.”

“Dori and Ori are your only family,” Bilbo stated carefully. “So what made you decide to join Thorin?”

“A distant relative asks you to join him on his quest to reclaim his kingdom along with the promise of enough gold to keep you and your brothers fed and happy for the rest of your days. What would you have done, burglar?” Bilbo blushed, looking down at his feet.

“I’m sorry to say I would not have had much reason to join him. I’ve no brothers or sisters, only cousins, and all are wealthy, fat, and happy. But I suppose if I did, I would have considered it.” Nori was silent again for a time, and it made Bilbo wonder if he said something wrong. When he looked back up, however, he was surprised and embarrassed to see the dwarf studying him intently.

“You’re an odd little fellow,” he said bluntly. “I often wonder why you chose to join us. You do not seek riches or fame, yet you left your comfortable home behind for a journey that could very well be the death of you.”

“I...” Bilbo stumbled for an answer, part of him feeling certain that he had already made his intent quite clear before in his speech to Thorin, but another part uncertain of what exactly Nori was asking. His fingers brushed the edge of the pocket his ring was in, and he slipped his hand inside to make sure it was still there. Ever since he acquired the golden treasure the habit of checking its security came fairly quickly. Nori, however, seemed to have noticed the movement and instantly narrowed his eyes.

“What is in your pocket, burglar?”

_Nothing…_

He shook his head, trying not to think of his encounter with Gollum, but it made him instinctively close a hand over his ring.

“N-nothing, surely.”

“Come, now, we both know you were not a true burglar when you joined us,” the dwarf snorted. “I know you found something when you were separated from us in those goblin caves that let you escape from that creature you spoke of, or else you would have been its dinner that night.”

“Now, hang on−”

“We deserve to know,” Nori snarled, making Bilbo stumble back. “You are part of this company−”

“As are you!” Bilbo blurted. “Yet you leave us when we try to make a…a collective decision.”

“Collective,” the dwarf snorted, shaking his head. “Tell me, what is _collective_ about keeping valuable and useful treasures to yourself? I am a thief myself, Master Baggins, and I know when someone has something to hide!” Nori stalked forward and all Bilbo could do was freeze as he found himself being pushed up against a tree. Hands closed around his arms and gave him a light shake.

“Please,” he said quietly, trying hard not to panic. The change in the dwarf had been so sudden! “I can’t, it’s just complicated.” _Why_ did he always find himself in these situations?

“Right,” Nori laughed. “Too complicated for dwarves to understand.”

“Please−” He suddenly yelped, not from anything Nori had done but from the sudden burning in the palm of his hand from where he clutched the ring.

“Bilbo?” He let out a gasp, recognizing Fíli’s voice ringing throughout the small clearing. Before he could call out, and before Nori could act, Bilbo could see the moonlight glinting off of the prince’s blonde hair. “Ori was worried when you didn’t…Nori, what are you doing?”

“We’ve settled our differences, now,” came Kíli’s cheerful voice, “it’s safe to come back.” Glancing past Nori’s shoulder, Bilbo could see both of the brothers facing them, Fíli’s expression hard and calculating while Kíli looked confused.

“Kíli,” Fíli said gently, “go and fetch Uncle.”

“But−”

“Now.” After a moment’s hesitation, the lad obeyed his sibling and hurried off. “Nori, back away.” Fíli’s voice was stern this time. “Your quarrel is not with our burglar.”

“It is, oh Prince,” Nori growled sarcastically, “for he has been hiding something from us.”

“Whatever it is, I am sure it can be discussed in a less threatening manner. It is quite rude to back someone up against a tree, especially one smaller than yourself.” Bilbo was oddly comforted by the wink Fíli gave him over Nori’s shoulder, and he would have scoffed had the situation not been so touchy. As it was, he thanked Eru that the golden prince had come to his rescue.

“He is breaking his contract,” the dwarf said, loosening his grip on Bilbo’s forearms yet still did not back away. The hobbit studied the feral look in his eyes before squeezing his own shut, praying that Fíli would be able to keep him talking at least until Thorin arrived. “It may not matter to you, but I have my brothers to care for. I didn’t join your uncle’s company just to be lied to by a _halfling!_ He’s putting all of our lives in danger!”

“It matters a great deal to me,” Fíli said calmly. “That you chose to join my uncle in reclaiming Erebor will always mean the world to him, and to Kíli and I. We care about each other as much as you care about your brothers, I assure you, so we can at least begin to understand how−”

“You will never understand.”

“Really?” Bilbo could start to hear the frustration in Fíli’s voice.

_Don’t quarrel with him, my lad,_ he thought desperately, _it will only anger him further!_ It was perhaps worth remembering how young and protected Fíli still was from the world. Of course he thought his uncle’s quest was worth fighting for, but even Bilbo was aware of the class difference between the royals and their extended family members. Nori and his brothers led different lives compared to Thorin and his kin, and even if Fíli and Kíli hadn’t grown up in a kingdom, the hobbit was willing to bet that they were always treated like princes even if only by Thorin and whatever family they had around them. Nori, however, spoke of his thievery, and Bilbo wasn't foolish enough to think it was all done out of pleasure or boredom.

“I may be a prince,” Fíli said, as if reading Bilbo’s thoughts, “but I fear for the lives of my kin as much as you fear for yours. At least the white orc isn’t determined to destroy what remains of your family line.” Bilbo winced, but the words didn’t seem to affect Nori. Not much did, in fact, and he became suspicious of what made Nori so angry. Before he could wonder any further, there came a great crashing through the trees, and he watched with wide eyes as Nori was torn away by the angry, bear-like force that was Thorin Oakenshield. They snarled and growled at each other in Khuzdul before the king had Nori pushed forcefully up against a tree far away from where Bilbo still stood frozen. It had happened so fast, and the hold Thorin had on the other dwarf honestly looked quite deadly.

“Are you hurt?” Bilbo looked up to see that Kíli was now standing beside him, sword drawn and keeping his gaze on the fighting dwarves.

“No.” The hobbit patted himself down. After ensuring that the ring was still in his pocket, he quickly glanced at his still aching hand, convinced he would see a round burn mark in the shape of his ring. As it was, the palm of his hand was its natural color and completely smooth. “No, I’m fine.” A calm hand on his shoulder made him look up again, this time to find Fíli on his other side.

“Thorin will deal with him,” the blonde prince said, “but you were quite brave, Mister Baggins. It is one thing to fight orcs, yet quite another to face a member of your own company.”

“Thank you, I−”

“But why?” Kíli murmured. “What happened?” Bilbo faltered, not wanting to reveal the matter of his ring or worry Kíli even further. Fíli looked at him with curiosity, but upon seeing the hobbit falter in his explanation, he only shook his head.

“You didn’t provoke him in any way?”

“No,” Bilbo said.

“Then it matters not, brother. Master Nori is at fault for threatening our burglar and will be punished accordingly. Come back to camp with us, Bilbo. We have your bedroll ready.” It took a gentle prod to encourage the hobbit to follow them, but he suddenly felt very tired and was thankful to Fíli for putting an end to it for the moment. Kíli still watched him as if fighting the urge to get every detail out of Bilbo, but kept silent. “I imagine you’re hungry,” Fíli went on. “Bombur made us a nice stew from the leftover meat the eagles brought us. Found some spices hidden in his pack, he said, so it doesn’t taste as plain as it normally does…” As the prince went on, Bilbo was cheered by the talk of food right up to the moment he nestled between the two brothers and tasted it for himself. It was indeed very nice, reminiscent of the spices he had back at home which helped calm his nerves.

The sun had completely set by this time, and the fire in the middle of the company’s camp burned bright and warm as some of them drifted off to sleep. Most weren’t aware of what had occurred, although Bilbo caught Ori eyeing him questioningly at times.

_Maybe he suspects something,_ Bilbo thought. They were brothers after all, though he doubted very much that the lad knew what his older brother had done. He wouldn’t have sent Bilbo after him if he thought Nori would act in such a way. No, there was something definitely wrong with the dwarf that night. As Bilbo sat there thinking quietly to himself, despite Fíli and Kíli trying to cheer him up, his thoughts kept wandering back to one thing. He still wasn’t sure what to make of his ring acting the way it did, as if it were responding to the situation of its own accord.

“Bilbo.” Too tired to be startled, he sighed and looked up to find Thorin standing in front of him. The king was frowning, but the hobbit found comfort in the concern stitched in his brow and shining in his eyes.

“Where is he?” Fíli asked.

“With his brothers.” Bilbo bowed his head again, idly playing with a loose string on his waistcoat rather than trying to understand the silent conversation going on between the three Durins. When he felt the warmth of the brothers leave his sides, though, he had a feeling a certain request was made.

“Good night, Bilbo,” Kíli said quietly. The hobbit smiled and waved at the lads.

“Did he hurt you?” Bilbo looked back over at Thorin settling in by his side, a solid weight pressed against him as a pipe was lit. He carefully leaned into him, but the dwarf either didn’t take notice or care.

“Just shaken, really.” And it wasn’t entirely because of Nori. Fingering the ring in his pocket again, something was starting to occur to the hobbit. “From what I saw, he did not get off so easily.”

“Do you think he should have?”

“No,” Bilbo quickly said, eyebrows raised, “no, he did frighten me terribly, but what I mean to say is, it’s not entirely his fault.” Now Thorin looked surprised.

“He attacked you,” he said slowly, as if Bilbo did not realize that.

“Well, yes, but−”

“He acted in a way that not only made you feel at risk but physically put your health in danger. That is not something I can easily forgive or let go unpunished. He is lucky he is still part of this company, unless you feel uncomfortable with him being so.”

“I wouldn’t ask that,” he sighed. “Thorin, I…” Taking his hand away from his ring suddenly felt like a smart idea, and so he folded both hands in his lap. “I haven’t been honest about something.” At this, Thorin looked over, the light from his pipe casting a glow on his wary expression. “That is to say,” Bilbo hurried on, “I found something in the goblin caves that is most valuable to me. Already I feel an attachment to it, it saved my life, actually. I was able to escape because of it.” Thorin arched an eyebrow.

“You did not escape of your own accord?

“Not entirely on my own, no,” Bilbo shook his head.

“But what matters is that you did, that you used this ‘something’ that you speak of to your advantage. I certainly cannot fault you for that.”

“No, that’s…well, thank you, but−”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said softly. The hobbit was silenced by his gentle tone. “Whatever it is, it belongs to you. It is your find, and if it aids your,” his mouth quirked, “ _burglaring_ skills, then all the more reason to keep it for yourself. Nori is to never come near you, so you need not fear−”

“That’s the thing!” Bilbo blurted, then slumped down after his outburst caused Thorin to start. “Sorry.”

“Be at peace, Master Baggins, here.” Bilbo accepted the offered pipe, taking a few puffs before handing it back.

“Thank you.” Thorin inclined his head. After choosing his words carefully, Bilbo went on. “It makes me wary. I can’t help but wonder why Nori would act in such a way, although I do not feel it is his fault.”

“He knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Of that I have no doubt, however I also will admit to feeling possessive of what I found. I have never felt such a way before.” Thorin hummed, finishing his pipe before tapping it out. Now it was only by the light of the moon and faint starlight that Bilbo could see the dwarf he was confiding in. It had grown to the point where he would swear all of his belongings, on Bag End, and possibly even his life on the trust he had in Thorin Oakenshield, yet a whisper in his mind warned a hundred reasons why Thorin would eventually betray him and the ring. None of the reasons made sense, and Bilbo could not fathom why his mind went to such a place− a _heartbreaking_ place− however the whisper was always there, somewhere. “I blame it for the way Nori acted,” he realized. “I know he is a fellow with a shady past, but if you trust him then so do I.”

“I do not trust his judgment tonight,” Thorin rumbled.

“Even so, I ask that you take into account the changes I have noticed in myself due to it. Not negative,” he added quickly when he could feel Thorin’s heavy gaze, “but as I said, more protective, more alert. I think Nori responded to it out of curiosity, but when he allowed himself too close it got out of hand for the both of us.” Thorin was silent for a time, his steady breathing lulling Bilbo into a relaxed state now that he was able to speak his mind.

“I suppose,” the dwarf finally murmured, “I can relate.” Bilbo looked curious at this. “The Arkenstone held a similar effect over my family ever since it was found. Greed consumed those who spent any amount of time near it, and especially my family line. I never paid it much heed, although I can recognize what it does to us now that I have spent time away from it, yet I still desire that stone. To see it again, the heart of the mountain I so love, would be equal to looking upon the face of Mahal.”

“We both must take care,” Bilbo said quietly.

“Aye, I will not let Erebor fall again due to greed.” They fell into another silence, during which a weary Bilbo leaned further into the warmth of his companion’s shoulder and contemplated no small amount of things. It had been an emotionally trying day and he was ready to see the end of it, although the journey ahead promised to be a challenging one.

_Still,_ he mused with a small smile, _at least I have a king on my side now._

And that was a cheerful thought indeed.


	2. Beorn's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf has led the company to the shelter of his skin-changing "friend," but Bilbo thinks the wizard is much too liberal with the meaning of that word. In Beorn's great hall, the hobbit finds comfort and rest despite his fears of the giant man, and realizes just how much he has come to mean to Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit heavy-handed with the Thorin/Bilbo in this one because, really, things only get worse after they leave Beorn’s. Also, content of a sexual nature will be present. I couldn't decide whether or not to put the rating up to E, but just beware that what I see as M could very well be E for you.
> 
> Many continued thanks and love to my beta/sanity: cakelydemise

_The white warg had sunk its teeth into Thorin’s chest, just as Bilbo regained his grip on the branch he was dangling from. The company around him called out to their leader, voices rising above the roaring flames, and the hobbit knew he had to act. He’d done it before, anyhow, so he could certainly do it again._

_He tried to move, to reach Thorin quickly and prevent the worst from happening...but his limbs were frozen in place. Cold fear shot through him. He had to get to Thorin or the king would die! It was up to him to save him, but still he couldn’t move!_

_He blinked only once before finding himself in front of Azog and his steed. His limbs disobeyed him still, and he watched as the Pale Orc flashed his razor sharp teeth in a deadly grin, laughing as he regarded what was little more than a shiny stick that Bilbo held in his hands. It really was a letter opener compared to the size of the orc, and the hobbit began to doubt himself. From behind him, Thorin groaned in pain and Bilbo’s heart went out to him._

I must protect him, _he kept thinking to himself,_ but I can’t move!

“Bilbo!”

_He couldn’t turn his head to see who had called out to him. He couldn’t do anything, and he could only watch as Azog and the warg approached him. Then, oh then the sudden pain was excruciating as he felt iron jaws clamp around his middle! He opened his mouth to cry out in pain, but no sound came from him. Wetness seeped from his torso as his bones and organs were crushed. It was a pain like no other, and he could very slowly feel the life leave from him as his world became dim. All he could feel was pain, and all he could hear was his name being called through the buzzing in his ears. Finally he let out a sound, a whimper, as his vision faded to black._

“Bilbo!”

The hobbit let out a sob, causing Bofur to give him a firmer shake in attempt to rouse him. 

“Come on, laddie, it’s only a dream.”

When Bilbo finally opened his eyes, he had expected to see the flames and the orcs again, and still felt the pain from the warg bite. Slowly he came back to reality, processing the concerned expression on Bofur’s face as he crouched in front of him, the sun just starting to peek out from behind the trees, and the soft murmuring of the company around him. 

_No shouting, no flames,_ Bilbo thought, and he took a shuddering breath.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Bofur shook his head and gestured towards the hobbit’s belly.

“Are you in pain?”

“Hmm?” He looked down and realized he was still clutching his stomach. “Just sore.” Perhaps sleeping on his bruises the wrong way factored into the pain he felt in his dream. “I’m fine, though, really. Did I wake you?”

“Nah, we were all just getting up anyway. Gandalf came back and he wants us to follow him off to wherever.” The dwarf stood up and offered Bilbo a hand. “You sure you’re all right? I could ask Oin to give you something.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the hobbit said, grunting as he was pulled up. “Nothing I can’t walk off.”

“That must have been a pretty intense dream.”

“It was.” Bilbo blushed, looking around at the others. “I hope no one else heard me.”

“Nah. Thorin would’ve been at your side in a second if he’d of heard you, and the lads would insist on coddling you.” Bofur winked. “Just me you have to worry about, though I understand why you would be having nightmares. Still, if you keep having ‘em, Oin won’t think twice if you ask him for a sleeping draught.”

“Thank you, Bofur,” Bilbo said quietly.

“Aye, anytime. Don’t sleep by yourself next time either. It’d help if you had someone next to you to make you feel safe. We don’t bite.” The dwarf faltered, then added with a slight frown, “well, sometimes Bifur does, but he don’t mean nothing by it. He has some crazy dreams of his own.” Bilbo wasn't sure if he was meant to laugh at that, but managed a small smile, thankful that it had been Bofur to come to his rescue. He could never be embarrassed around his friend and for that he was infinitely grateful.

After a light breakfast, Gandalf reappeared and hastily got them to their feet. More grumbling questions were silenced once and for all by the stern wizard explaining the nature of his supposed friend (he really was taking them to a skin-changer!) and that they were invited to find their own way if they didn’t find the company of one who would provide them with much needed supplies agreeable. The company followed in silence, complacent and accepting of the wizard’s terms, but now it was poor Bilbo who found himself terrified! A man bigger than Gandalf who could transform into a bear? He shook as he followed his dwarves off to where Gandalf was leading them, the great trepidation in his heart coupled with a bad night’s sleep making him anxious. Perhaps the only comfort he found was watching Thorin take the lead, head held high even though he too must have felt wary about their next fate.

The trek was long and hot as the sun rose high above them, barely any clouds or trees to offer any relief. They had eaten everything that the eagles offered them and although there weren’t any complaints of hunger among the dwarves, Bilbo started to feel his stomach rumble once again. He stumbled over a rock (distracted by thoughts of bread and how the Shire peaches would be ripe for picking soon) and was saved just in time by a hand gripping the back of his collar.

“Easy, Mister Bilbo,” he heard Fíli say. He sighed and was about to offer the lad his thanks when he caught Gandalf fixing him with a knowing stare. 

Blushing, he ducked his head again. Of course Gandalf knew what was wrong without even asking, but it didn’t make Bilbo feel any better. He’d rather his friend _didn’t_ know of the nightmares that plagued him lest he bring it up in front of someone less jovial than Bofur. Bilbo felt mortified at the very thought of Thorin knowing he had nightmares, thinking back on what Bofur had said. He had already proven himself to the king and really didn’t fancy taking a step back. He was strong and capable from the moment he aided Thorin in battle, even if the mere thought of that night made him feel faint.

“You have been staring at Uncle’s back ever since we started out,” Fíli observed, startling the hobbit out of his thoughts.

“Or perhaps his backside,” Kíli quipped, coming up to walk beside them. Bilbo sputtered as Fíli cuffed his brother over the head before draping an arm across the younger’s shoulders.

“I h-have not!”

“Ignore him, he only teases.”

“Although judging from your reaction I wonder if I’m not too far off− ouch, Fíli, _stop!_ ” Kíli yelped as his brother put him in a headlock.

“Anyway,” Fíli went on, “as I was saying, and I am not making any assumptions, but I think you have quite an interest in Uncle.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Bilbo muttered, feeling his cheeks heat.

“Well, you saved his life and you continue to stare at him even while we are having this conversation.” 

The hobbit jumped when he realized this was true, breaking his gaze away from Thorin and back to the princes.

“I don’t…I mean, I…Fíli, can your brother breathe like that?” Kíli had become quite red in the face as he struggled to escape from his brother’s tight grip, but Fíli only shrugged.

“He’s fine. What I’m wondering is what you intend to do about it?”

“I’m not _intending_ to do anything! You shouldn’t assume things, Master Fíli−”

“Oh, Bilbo,” Kíli exclaimed, finally breaking free from Fíli’s grip, “we know all about it!” He moved to stand on the other side of the hobbit, eyeing his brother warily. Fíli only winked, causing the younger one to shiver.

_Of course you lads know all about it,_ Bilbo thought to himself, _you’ve always loved each other. Me…I’ve never really loved anybody._

He frowned, looking away from the brothers and up at Thorin again. Did he really feel such a thing for the king? He thought it might have just been a passing fancy, brought about by close quarters, shared adventures, and the fact that they had saved each other’s lives. Though come to think of it, all of those things were perfectly fine excuses for falling in love.

Bilbo shook his head. No, it wasn’t love. Whatever it was, he was a hobbit and that meant he needed to take the proper time to figure out just exactly what he felt before jumping to conclusions.

“Stop being nosy,” he chided, though a smile curled at his lips. He just hoped the rest of the company hadn’t caught on yet. The lads were very perceptive (when it came to Bilbo, anyway) but he certainly didn’t wish for whatever feelings he had to be known by Thorin. His stomach dropped out of sheer embarrassment at the very thought of the king knowing, and if it wasn’t for Kíli’s arm suddenly wrapping around his shoulders and guiding him forward, he would have stumbled again.

“We won’t tell, obviously,” the younger prince scoffed playfully. “We just think it’s rather lovely.”

“Really?” Bilbo couldn’t help but wonder.

“Of course,” Fili said. “Besides, if anyone is a perfect fit for uncle, surely it would be you.” Before the hobbit could ask what he meant by that, however, the company was soon stopped by Gandalf. They had come up to some trees at last, and a high gate a short time after, yet just over the gate they could see,

“Bees,” Bilbo breathed, “and oh, how big they are!” 

It made sense for a large man to take care of bees that were much bigger than the average honey bee, but such a little hobbit was not terribly fond of the stings that came with such a creature. Still, unfazed as always by danger looking him right in the face, Gandalf went on to explain the plan he must have concocted the entire walk there. A few of the dwarves murmured when he mentioned how they would go about it in pairs, no doubt wanting to fill their bellies as quick as possible, but none argued with the wizard. However, when Gandalf said that he himself would go first with Bilbo, it was then that Thorin spoke up.

“Do you not think I should go first?” he asked sternly. “I am this company’s leader, after all, and I wouldn’t have any other go before me should this man prove to be disagreeable.” The king stood beside Bilbo, a calming presence despite his unease. “Least of all our burglar.” The hobbit swallowed hard, looking up at Gandalf and was surprised to find a considerate, if fleeting, expression on his face.

“That is precisely why I am taking Mister Baggins with me. If my friend sees that I arrive with only one, unassuming and− forgive me, Bilbo− small companion, then he will be more amenable to receiving other guests. Imagine seeing a long lost King Under the Mountain walking up to your front door with a wizard such as myself!”

“If he is your friend then he should trust whomever you walk up with.”

“You fail to see my point. I will take our burglar with me, and if you wish you may follow with one other after my whistle.” 

Bilbo waited to see what Thorin would say to that, but after a moment the king bowed his head. 

“I only ask that you make your whistle a loud one,” he conceded, “and soon.” 

There was a pang in Bilbo’s chest that followed him through the flowers and past the beehives as he trailed after Gandalf. He found he wasn’t too fond of leaving the company behind, and the look of tired acceptance in Thorin’s eyes made him wish even more that they could find safe shelter with Gandalf’s friend.

Despite his hunger, fatigue, and general skittishness the hobbit had to admit that the skin-changer’s land was quite beautiful. There were multitudes of flowers, some he didn’t recognize, and what looked like nice little houses made out of wood scattered here and there. The droning of the giant bees still made him wary, but they kept their distance as they continued on their own busy way. A white horse that seemed to appear out of nowhere had looked at them quite curiously with its intelligent eyes, and soon trotted off as if it had great business to attend to.

“Well, Beorn should know that we are about to arrive soon,” Gandalf murmured to himself.

“Beorn?”

“That is his name, after all.”

Sure enough, when they finally came to the doorstep of a sizeable cabin, there stood Beorn himself talking to the white horse. He was a man of even greater size than Bilbo imagined! Why, he could run through his legs without even having to duck!

“What brings such an odd pair to my lands?” he asked in a booming voice appropriate for his size. “You make my animals wary.”

“My name is Gandalf the Grey,” the wizard said with confidence. “Surely you have heard of me. And this is my friend and companion Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit from the Shire.” Still recovering from the initial shock of meeting Beorn, Bilbo was taken aback once again by Gandalf’s words.

“Wait−” he started.

“I have not heard of you,” the skin-changer grumbled. 

Bilbo gawked, whipping his head up to look at Gandalf and nearly hurting his neck in the process. The wizard had lied to them? Here they were with this giant of a man towering over them both, with an army of animals and large _bees_ at his disposal, and Gandalf hadn’t even met him before! If Bilbo wasn’t so rooted to the spot with terror he would have marched right back to the company and perhaps all the way back to the Shire. As it was, he only managed to glare up at Gandalf as his mother’s friend tried to talk them out of this one. He spoke of Radagast, that peculiar Brown fellow the company met before, and oddly enough it seemed to placate the man. His brow grew dark, however, when Gandalf mentioned their run-in with the goblins, and Bilbo shook at both the memory and the man’s expression. Here was one who clearly did not approve of goblins, and perhaps it was their shared dislike of the dark creatures that led the man to invite them into his home to finish the story.

Through a great hall they walked with a warm fire in the middle and out to a veranda overlooking the many flowers surrounding Beorn’s house. They settled around a table there, Bilbo wringing his sweaty hands as Gandalf continued on with the story. Then finally when Beorn caught on to the fact that there were more than just the two of them, Gandalf whistled for two more to come.

It took hardly any time at all for Thorin to emerge onto the veranda with a nervous Dori by his side. They made their introductions, to which Beorn seemed to at least recognize Thorin’s name from the stories, and quickly took their seats while Gandalf continued on.

It was impossible to express how relieved Bilbo felt when Thorin sat next to him, but his timid smile was met with a frown as the king inspected him.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"A bit terrified," Bilbo admitted. "I feel as if I shall never meet someone who is my size again." 

"One of us will stay by you." The sincerity in his tone made Bilbo breathe easier, and the steady weight of a large hand on his shoulder made him smile.

"Thank you." 

“He is positively frightful,” Dori muttered, shaking his head. “What a dreadful thing...”

“What is your business venturing East?” Beorn suddenly wondered. Looking up, Bilbo realized he was addressing Thorin, but before the king could even open his mouth Gandalf answered for him.

“Only to visit the land of their fathers,” the wizard said smoothly. 

“Why bring a wee bunny hobbit along?”

Bilbo bristled at that, but Thorin finally spoke up to the skin-changer.

“Bilbo is a valuable member of our company,” he said haughtily, then faltered when Gandalf shot him a glare that sent shivers down the hobbit’s spine. 

They were to remember that Beorn had a hot temper, the wizard told them, and to not under any circumstances upset him. Bilbo didn’t wish to know the type of anger the man was capable of, and so he cast his eyes down and kept his mouth shut. Thorin offered no other retort, but his gaze was steely while his mouth was set in a permanent frown. The hand that had dropped from Bilbo’s shoulder, however, went to gently squeeze his wrist under the table, and the hobbit found great comfort in this. It was always nice to be reminded that Thorin thought highly of him.

Beorn, despite all of this, only let out a boisterous laugh and waved for Gandalf to go on. As he did, his story gradually started to include more and more members of the company, to which Beorn impatiently told him to invite them all in and get on with it. Up until the time they all arrived, in order to make himself feel better about the situation, Bilbo distracted himself by watching all of their reactions to the large man when they first walked in:

Nori and Ori had arrived after Thorin and Dori, and the hobbit was surprised to see that the youngest member of their company only wore an interested expression while he fished for his notebook. Bilbo expected to see a very impressive sketch later of Beorn. Nori looked suspicious much like his older brother had, staying close to Ori and keeping a hand on his sheathed blade. Despite the incident that had occurred between him and Bilbo, the hobbit knew the thief would protect his brothers to the bitter end. 

Next came Balin and Dwalin, the former with a raised brow of curiosity and the latter with both hands on his blades at all times. Bilbo idly thought that he would be interested in the outcome of a fight between Beorn and Dwalin, but ultimately Beorn was much taller and stronger than the dwarven warrior could ever hope to be. He would still root for Dwalin, though. 

Kíli was the first of the two princes to walk in when summoned and had the widest eyes Bilbo had ever seen. It would have been endearing if there hadn’t been a touch of fear in them, which was curious to Bilbo since he hadn’t recalled ever seeing the lad afraid before. Fíli feigned disinterest and stayed protectively by his brother’s side, but would look over at Beorn every once in a while with a small frown on his lips as if he didn’t quite know what to make of the situation.

Next after the princes came Óin and Glóin. Bilbo was surprised Óin had even heard Gandalf’s whistle, but supposed Glóin had helped him along. Both seemed to be looking around for food instead of paying any heed to what was going on, and looked quite comically depressed that there didn’t seem to be any.

Bifur and Bofur too looked for food, but soon grew bored. Bifur had taken to whittling away at one of his wooden toys, while Bilbo almost laughed to see Bofur making a daisy chain out of some of the flowers from Beorn’s garden. Perhaps the hobbit shouldn’t have taught his friend how to do so, but if Beorn noticed that his flowers had been picked then he didn’t say anything about it.

Finally, Bombur came after his brother and cousin, grumbling to himself about the messes they always found themselves in before dozing off in his chair as soon as he sat.

“I see you are all here at last,” Beorn grumbled, “unless there are even more in your party?”

“No, that will be the last of us,” Gandalf chuckled.

“And the great eagles of Manwë chose to accommodate all of you, from the smallest to the fattest.” They all waited in silence as Beorn considered all of this, nervous and wondering if they were to be kicked back out into wild, before he laughed heartily and clapped his giant hands together. “I haven’t heard such a tale in many years! It will be up to me to find out if it’s true, but I can certainly feed and provide shelter to such an adventurous group!”

Cheers erupted among the company, while Bilbo let out a sigh of relief. The tension that was also in Thorin’s hand− still lightly gripping the hobbit’s wrist− lessened, but it was only until various animals started coming in with plates of food that he let go completely. Bilbo watched as the king shook his head and dragged both hands over his face.

“Never in all my days,” he started to say, then continued in his own tongue. 

“At least there’s food,” the hobbit pointed out. Thorin peered back down at him with a weak smile, but said no more. 

They ate and drank their fill, then ate and drank some more as Beorn told his own stories. It was only when Bilbo finally started to relax that the skin-changer spoke of the darkness stirring in Mirkwood, although he wasn’t the only one bothered. The cheerful company sobered considerably as they thought of the next part of their journey, and it was at this point that Gandalf suggested they would all feel better with some rest. Still as they moved to the great hall, even though cots were set up and scattered around, some gathered around the fire with their pipes and started to sing. 

The hobbit was instantly taken back to that night in Bag End, when the company sang the haunting melody that tugged at his soul. Even now he felt vulnerable as he burrowed himself in the blankets, knowing of the dangers he faced as the dwarves sang of the dragon that took their home. The road ahead was darker still, and they had a long way to go. Despite it all, as he watched Thorin stand by the fire through heavy-lidded eyes, he knew he was in good company and that he really would go through fire for these dwarves.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Bilbo woke from his recurring nightmares with a start, gasping for air and looking around for whoever had stumbled over him. A grunt and an incoherent mumble told him it was Bifur, but instead of the dwarf going on his way, the curious cousin of Bofur turned to peer down at him questioningly. 

“I’m fine,” the hobbit said, still clutching his chest. “It’s just…bad dreams, and you startled me.” 

Bifur said something more clearly, though still in Khuzdul, and Bilbo shook his head. It seemed the dwarf was pressing on about Bilbo’s health. The hobbit had travelled alongside the peculiar dwarf long enough now to at least vaguely understand him, but he still insisted that he was well.

“Besides,” Bilbo went on, “it’s about time I got up.” He stood and stretched to make his point. “It’s breakfast time, anyway.”

“Aye, what’s left of it.” There was a light thump on his back before Bofur came into view. “Better get it while you can.” Bifur immediately spoke to his cousin, gesturing wildly to Bilbo, but Bofur only chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “He’ll be all right, just needs some warm food.” Bilbo’s stomach let out a grumble in agreement, and he was soon on his way to see what was left for him out on the veranda. 

There still seemed to be a substantial amount of food, enough for a full breakfast anyway, and he packed it away quickly in order to get a good smoke in before lunch was served. Beorn’s house was rather lovely, if he were to be honest with himself, and it was nice to be in a safe place for once where he didn’t have to worry about orcs hunting the company down. At least not at the moment.

Instead of smoking out on the veranda, Bilbo decided to go for a walk in the gardens. He smiled at the flowers, still amazed at the variety and couldn’t help but think how his mother would have adored them. She would have demanded to know the names of the ones she didn’t know, of course, and whether or not she could grow them in her own garden. She was always like that, always so−

His thoughts faltered when he came upon a bench somewhat hidden by the bushes, only it was made noticeable by the dwarf that sat on it. Thorin, it seemed, was taking his respite away from the others (wherever they may be, for Bilbo hadn’t seen them since Bifur had woken him up) and was mulling over the pipe clenched between his teeth. He appeared rather on edge about something, and Bilbo hesitated to approach him, but the king looked up at that moment and relaxed considerably. Without a word, he gestured Bilbo over to him and added more weed to his pipe.

“Curious,” the hobbit started, hardly knowing what he was saying, “but you are the only one of our company I have seen for some time.”

“Some are napping, while Gandalf ordered some of our company to tidy up around Beorn’s home this morning.” The dwarf chuckled as if he found this ridiculous, but Bilbo frowned. The company certainly did leave messes in their wake, and although they did a decent job of cleaning up, now that Bilbo was counted among them he felt he should at least lend a hand. He shuddered to think what an angry Beorn would be like.

“I should help them,” he murmured, but when he made to turn, he felt a heavy hand on his forearm.

“Take your rest, Bilbo.” He shivered at Thorin’s low tone. “You deserve it.” He would have protested, but his feet had other plans for him. Before he knew it he was sitting, once again, beside the king. “Besides, they are nearly finished.” Knowing when a conversation was finalized, he had no choice but to stay with Thorin. There were certainly worse companions, he figured, and it was such a beautiful day. He closed his eyes as a soft breeze blew past, the air pleasant on his face.

“You sang again last night,” he found himself saying softly, humming the song to himself.

“You have a good memory,” Thorin acknowledged.

“Hobbits love music, and poems of course. Anything that rhymes or has a tune,” he chuckled. “I suppose we have that in common.”

“Indeed.”

“But you don’t sing much,” the hobbit pressed on, feeling bold. “The night you sang in my home I felt many different things at once. Your voice was very sad, and moved me in a way I have never been moved before.”

“Surely my intent was not to upset you.”

“No.” Bilbo opened his eyes and looked up at the king. “I wasn’t upset, I just knew in that moment what it meant to lose one’s home in such a terrible way. It’s the way you sang it.” He blushed again, but carried on. “I like your voice.” 

A moment of silence passed between them in which Bilbo thought he may have ventured too far with his words, but then felt Thorin relax more against his shoulder.

“I have always taken pleasure in singing,” the king admitted, “but have not had much reason to do so. Our family was very musical and I had a harp I would carry around with me at all times.”

“Really?”

“Before Smaug came,” he nodded. “I lost it in the flames among many other precious tokens, but over the years I have learned to be grateful for what I still have. I would choose the lives of those closest to me over any trinket.”

“But it’s still nice to have things that make you happy,” Bilbo said quietly, “even if they can be remade. I am sorry you lost your harp, for I would have very much enjoyed hearing you play.”

“Perhaps you will, one day, when we reclaim our home. As for singing, I can indulge us every now and then. It is not wise to do so on the open road, but whenever we are safe I shall remember that you take joy in it.”

“I would like that very much,” he said sincerely, smiling at the crinkle in the corners of Thorin’s eyes. Sometimes it was his only way of knowing when the king was truly pleased with something, though he always favored a true smile like the one he earned on the Carrock.

They sat in companionable silence for a time, both taking in the warm sun and lost in their own thoughts before Thorin murmured something that took Bilbo by surprise.

“We have been very fortunate, in our journey, now that we have you among us.” The hobbit squirmed in his seat. He had known Thorin to be blunt with his words, but this was quite a confession! “I am only being truthful when I say such things. I would not be here if you had decided to stay home, Bilbo Baggins.”

“I’m quite foolish, really. I could have easily died trying to save you, or even made matters worse. Of course,” he fidgeted again, “I was only really thinking about what it would be like if the company had lost you. They need you, and I…need you as well. I only hope I can still manage to keep luck on my side.”

“I would not label the bravery of a hobbit as luck.” 

Bilbo shook his head and looked up at Thorin, but again a retort died in his throat at the look on the king’s face. Something stirred in the hobbit’s belly at such adoration being directed at him, and blush soon heated his cheeks.

_He cannot possibly think of you in the same way,_ he scolded himself, frowning slightly.

“Bilbo?”

“My apologies, I’m just−” a hopeless, foolish Took “−tired.”

“Of course.” Something flickered in Thorin’s eyes, Bilbo was curious to see, something almost like disappointment, but it was gone when the king smiled. “The last few days have been rather trying.”

“Between the goblin caves and those foul orcs, I don’t think I’ve felt truly safe until we came here yesterday. I slept well last night, but I’m ashamed to say that a nightmare or two had me waking up in a cold sweat.” He couldn’t suppress a shiver at the thought, to which Thorin wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“You do very well by us, kind hobbit. Once we are in the wild again I promise I will do everything within my power to make you feel safe.” Bilbo blushed again, furiously this time, when he felt lips at his temple. Did Thorin just… “You will always be a most valued member of our company.” That was most certainly a kiss! Bilbo dared to turn and look up at the dwarf. Sure enough there were his lips, not so far away from Bilbo’s and close enough to−

“Uncle!”

“Beorn is allowing us to use his archery course! Can you believe a man like him would even get any use out of−” Before the brothers could even be seen, Bilbo heard a loud scuffle followed by retreating footsteps. “Later, Kíli.”

“Why? What were they doing?”

“I said _later._ ” 

Shocked, Bilbo looked around anyway but soon there was no sign of the lads, or any other dwarf, really. He still felt utterly embarrassed. Surely Fíli had at least seen what they were about to do!

Thorin merely chuckled beside him, causing the flustered hobbit to look back up.

“Fíli is a good lad, he will not speak a word of this.”

“Yes, but…” Bilbo sputtered. “It is still not proper!” Thorin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mean us, I just mean…being walked in on by…oh, bother it!” He huffed and crossed his arms, the Baggins in him displeased by the turn of events and the Took rolling his eyes. Now he wasn’t sure if the moment had passed or if they still had time to make their affections known for each other. Had that even been what they were doing, or was Thorin just being a friendly sort of affectionate− “Hey!” He rubbed the ear that was being tickled by the king, toes curling as a shiver coursed through him.

“There, I thought I had lost you to your own musings. Are you really so embarrassed?”

“No, just caught off guard.” He looked up sheepishly. “I’m still used to privacy, I am afraid, although I do not know why I fool myself.”

“Hobbit,” Thorin teased.

“ _Dwarf,_ ” Bilbo snorted, then smiled at Thorin’s grin. “All right. Can we try again, perhaps?”

“Try what?”

“Oh, don’t be such a…you _know_ what!” Bilbo huffed, causing the king to chuckle.

“Show me, then.” Steel blue eyes twinkled at him, a look Bilbo was not used to seeing on the king but quickly decided he rather treasured.

_He’s giving you permission!_

Swallowing hard Bilbo leaned up, lips hovering over Thorin’s before closing in for a chaste kiss. Pulling away soon after, face still hot and wondering why he suddenly felt like a coward, there was a look of quiet bliss on Thorin’s face.

“Ah, I see,” he murmured. “However, I may need to try for myself to see if I fully understand.” He shifted forward, and Bilbo felt drawn to him once again. “May I?”

“Yes,” he whispered, feeling rough lips capturing his in a soft manner. He almost laughed at the beard tickling his bare chin, but he found he quite liked it. He also wondered what would happen if he were to…ah, now that was something. Thorin let out a low moan as Bilbo’s tongue ventured out to lick his thick bottom lip. He was delighted to find the king’s lips still tasted of the honey they had with their dessert, and he wondered if the inside would taste the same. When a hand came up to gently run through his curls, thick fingers leaving fire in their wake, Bilbo boldly satisfied his curiosity by licking past sweet lips and into a warm, wet mouth. He almost cheered when he was met with the same taste of honey, but was soon distracted by the sharp breath Thorin took in through his nose. 

"My apologies," the dwarf mumbled, pulling away from the kiss. 

"I...what?" Bilbo asked breathily. Before he could receive an answer, though, enough sense returned to him that he realized Thorin was clutching his side. "Oh. Did I hurt you?"

"No." Thorin's answer was quick and reassuring, but Bilbo still worried. "I am only sore, that is all."

"Still, I should have known better." Bilbo faltered when the hand that was still caught in his hair began to gently stroke his scalp again, leaning into the soothing motion.

"I would kiss you if I were on my deathbed."

"Wow." Bilbo blinked. "That is quite the admission. I didn't know you felt that strongly about me."

"Now that I know what it is like to kiss you," Thorin hummed, "and yes, I do feel for you greatly." The hobbit smiled, biting his lip and shivering as fingers lightly grazed over his ear again. To have his feelings for the king returned in such a way was...well, it was quite a relief. “Only, I fear I am not keeping my promise,” he continued.

“Hmm?”

“You asked that I treat you as I would any member of this company, and although Dwalin would make a formidable bed partner or Ori a pleasantly submissive−”

“P-point taken!” Bilbo stuttered, causing Thorin to smirk.

“My affection for you is different, yet my respect is the same.”

“That is all I can ask for.” 

This seemed to please Thorin, for he wrapped Bilbo up in a hug that made the hobbit’s heart soar. When he snuggled into the furs at the king’s chest, he thought of the hug on the Carrock and of the immense relief he felt when he watched Thorin open his eyes. He wondered if Thorin could ever know what that first hug meant to him or what it meant now to not only be accepted, but cared for. 

\- - - - - - - - - -

Bilbo ended up leading the way back to the house for lunch, his hand sneaking into Thorin’s and feeling pleased when he earned a gentle squeeze for his boldness. Just before they reached the hall, however, the king pulled him out of sight and kissed him once more.

“Go ahead without me,” he murmured.

“You aren’t hungry?”

“No.” Then he grinned wolfishly and added, “I may need time to walk off the effect you’ve had on me.” 

Bilbo’s blush may have surpassed red at that point and entered the realm of purple, but he didn’t say much other than, “Oh, uhm, see you...later then.” 

He hesitated for an embarrassing amount of time when they parted ways, watching the king walk off with his regal head held high. 

_If I didn’t know any better,_ Bilbo thought to himself, loosening the cravat around his warm neck, _I would say he is quite smug! Well...I guess I am too, in a way._

Slowly making his way back out onto the veranda, he began to hear excited chatter among the company. Once he joined them, he knew why.

“Gandalf!” he cried upon seeing the wizard. 

“Hello, dear boy. Don’t bother me until I’ve had something to eat.” 

Bilbo obeyed his wishes as he took a seat next to Bofur, watching as Gandalf tore a chunk out of a loaf of bread and slathered it with butter. 

“He just sat down as you came in,” Bofur told him. “We haven’t been able to get anything out of him!”

“I wonder what he’s been up to?”

“No good, no doubt,” Glóin chortled.

“He must have been outside last night!” Ori said. “Even though he told us not to go out. I guess he doesn’t have much to worry about, being a wizard and all.”

“There is much to worry over, Master Ori,” Gandalf suddenly claimed, “though we all have different matters to tend to. I have been investigating some bear prints I found.” At this, the dwarves became even more excited and chatty− except for Ori who looked as if he would expire from mortification− but they grew more attentive as the wizard went on. “There were many different sets, not just one, of varying shapes and sizes and they seemed to be heading straight to where we had our encounter with the orcs and wargs...”

As Gandalf went on, two things occurred at once to Bilbo. For one, he realized he had heard a peculiar snuffling and snorting sound in the middle of the night. He knew not whether to attribute it to a dream and was fast asleep before he could think on it anymore, but now that Gandalf mentioned bears, he was certain that was exactly what he heard. As for a whole troupe of bears wandering off to the side of the Misty Mountains where goblins and orcs knew the company by name and were no doubt hunting for them, well, suffice it to say that Bilbo didn’t think it wise to be in the company of one who would lead their enemies right back to them!

“But Gandalf,” Dori spoke up, “what are these bears doing poking their snouts around goblin and orc territory? They’ll lead them all back here!” There were mumbles of agreement, and Bilbo was impressed with how well Dori read his mind, but the wizard seemed unbothered.

“I thought it very curious indeed that a band of bears would gather in the middle of night only to dance in circles and visit the mountains.” He said this more to himself as he continued to eat his lunch, and sadly Bilbo knew that would be the end of that. No matter what concerns the company voiced about Beorn, Gandalf just refused to hear it.

Giving it up for a lost cause, Bilbo sighed and put the napkin from his lap back onto the table. When he happened to glance up, a figure in the doorway caught his eye and curiously enough it looked as though Thorin was listening in on what Gandalf had been saying the entire time. Bilbo didn’t expect him to come back from where he had wandered off to as he didn’t seem particularly hungry, but whatever his intentions were he looked rather unhappy with what the wizard spoke of. Bilbo couldn’t blame him, still unable to imagine what it would be like to be responsible for a company of thirteen consisting of two sister-sons and some of your closest friends. All of that including a wizard who would disappear randomly, bring your company to dangerous lodgings, and only very narrowly save their lives! It was justifiably nerve-wracking! 

He was beginning to stand just as Thorin turned to leave. Feeling his stomach sink, he realized the king probably hadn’t seen him and was too lost in his own head after hearing Gandalf’s tale. Bilbo quickly decided to make his way through the company, pleased that no one stopped him, but he was nearly inside before he was distracted by the antics of Fíli and Kíli. Apparently they needed him to judge who could say “Beorn’s big buzzing bees” the clearest through a mouthful of honeycake. 

“Lads,” he sighed, “I really must−”

“It will only take a moment!” Kíli said, pulling him over to stand in front of them. The young prince turned on his puppy eyes which he knew Bilbo couldn’t resist.

_And really, he has perfected that look! They truly do remind me of my younger cousins._

“Oh, all right. Get your cakes at the ready, lads.” 

“Told you he would do it!” Fíli cheered.

It was quite fun, Bilbo would admit to himself later, watching the two stuff their faces until their cheeks jutted out like chipmunks. He was half afraid that they would choke, but once they started he had to fight hard not to burst out laughing. Really, he couldn’t understand anything they were saying let alone the tongue twister they were supposed to be reciting, and the shouts of encouragement from the company around him made it all the more difficult. And he thought hobbits were fond of games! Dwarves were much more competitive, and he even had to pull Fíli off of Kíli when the younger lad jabbed his brother in the ribs. 

In the end, Bilbo decided to deem Fíli the winner for his slightly less violent sportsmanship, and left the company to their own loud devices in order to seek out Thorin. He wandered inside the hall to find the king sitting alone by the fire, smoking once again and wearing a troubled expression. It made Bilbo’s heart clench to see such a thing. He immediately had the overwhelming urge to unsheath Sting and stand protectively over him until he had enough time to brood, but the foolishness passed and he shook his head at himself.

_Besides,_ he thought to himself sadly, _there wouldn’t be enough time in the world for the amount of brooding he does._

Instead, Bilbo quietly sat next to Thorin before anything could be said, placed his small hand over the king’s much bigger one, and kissed his cheek. Thorin responded with a sigh, wrapping an arm around the hobbit’s waist and pulling him close.

“We’ll be safe here,” Bilbo offered, brushing his fingers over the soft linen of the king’s tunic.

“I fear what will meet us once we leave. Already we must travel through the decaying ruins of the Greenwood, which Gandalf tells me grows darker by the day. I know not what creatures await us, but the elves that reside there are no friends to us and now we will always have Azog on our tail.”

“I do not think Beorn would do so intentionally, but from what Gandalf said do you think the bears have made it easier for the orcs to find us again?”

“That is difficult to say.” Thorin shifted and offered Bilbo his pipe. “Beorn has his part of the woods well-protected. I wouldn’t think that even the orcs would be dim-witted enough to come after Beorn, but if there were enough of them I have no doubt they could overpower him.”

“That would be sad,” Bilbo whispered. “He frightens me still, but I wish no harm on him. He seems to love his animals and his land very much.”

“You have a big heart, dear hobbit.” Bilbo peeked up to see Thorin offering him a smile, and he couldn’t help but taste what his lips felt like in such a rare form. As he softly kissed the king’s smile, he found it pleasant and his heart sang at the low chuckle he earned for his efforts.

“You know, it is impolite to laugh when someone is kissing you,” he murmured, eyes shining with mirth as he nipped Thorin’s bottom lip.

“It is also impolite to be so tempting during a serious conversation.”

“The mood was a bit heavy in here,” Bilbo shrugged, “plus now you’re smiling.”

“I find I do that more often when you’re around.” The hobbit could feel the blush right up to the tips of his ears and down to his toes from that one, and Thorin grinned at the result. “And I seem to render you speechless at times,” he went on. “That is quite a feat for such a cheeky hobbit.”

“Ch-Cheeky?” Bilbo stuttered, causing Thorin to let out a hearty laugh. His ego deflated at the sound and he smiled, shaking his head and leaning up for another kiss. How the king tried him at times, but a thought crossed his mind in that moment and he just had to boldly speak it. “I would very much like to offer my bed to you tonight,” he stated quietly, trying to keep the hesitancy from his voice. The hand at his waist clenched, not in an unpleasant way, but Bilbo knew he had taken Thorin by surprise.

“I would take that offer,” Thorin said, “but you sleep surrounded by the members of our company.”

“I know…”

“I also fear it would not fit the both of us.”

“Oh,” Bilbo blushed.

“However,” he went on, “my bed is much bigger and the placement of the room Beorn has provided me with will afford more privacy should we need it.”

Bilbo froze, suddenly realizing what his proposition sounded like, and he could have hit himself over the head. Of course when someone asked another to bed it implied something much more intimate than simple kisses. Bilbo would have liked that, certainly. Oh, he would very much love to bed the king, but he didn’t mean to be so forward with his words. He also valued that if they were to partake in certain acts their new relationship really wouldn’t be the same, yet here they were on a dangerous journey, their feelings for one another mutual and never knowing when each day might be their last.

“I think we might,” he murmured. “Forgive me for being so forward. It certainly isn’t like me, but I feel lately I haven’t been myself.” Looking down, he felt a hand gently card through his hair.

“Bilbo,” Thorin rumbled.

“But I would like to explore that option,” the hobbit went on, “if your wounds will allow it.” How he could manage to sound so proper while discussing such matters was beyond him, but the feeling of Thorin’s fingers in his hair made something hot in his belly curl and leave all matters of propriety behind.

“I can manage.”

“I thought as much,” he smiled.

\- - - - - - - - - -

That night, after Thorin retreated to his room with a nod to Bilbo, the hobbit patiently watched as the last of the company members stumbled to their cots, knees drawn up to his chest and trying his best to stay awake. The fire warmed his toes and his last swig of ale had dulled his senses a bit, but as he stood he knew the walk to Thorin’s room would help wake him. There was no doubt he still felt nervous despite his comfort, and as he picked his way down the dark hall his heart started to quicken its pace. By the time he reached the door, he forced himself to take a deep breath.

_You were the one who wanted this, Bilbo Baggins,_ he chided himself. There was nothing to fear, but the thought of the dwarf waiting for him behind the door sent shivers up his spine.

With one last breath, he entered, quietly shutting the door behind him, and instantly felt his heart pound fiercely as Thorin swooped down upon him. He let out a squeak of surprise, certainly not expecting to start right away, but realized as gentle fingers ran down his arms that the king was checking him over.

“Uhm...what?”

“Did he harm you?”

"N-no." 

The king sighed, dropping his arms and bowing his head so that it almost touched Bilbo's. Swallowing hard, the hobbit leaned forward, closing the gap so that they gently rested against each other.

"Forgive me," Thorin murmured. "I did not mean to scare you."

"You only took me by surprise." Bilbo ran his hands up and down Thorin's thick arms in what he hoped was a soothing manner, calming his own heartbeat once again. He spoke the truth, even if Thorin's reaction was rather startling, but the dwarf’s concern showed just how angered he was by their host’s actions that night.

They had dinner with Beorn, and the skin-changer informed them that he was satisfied with their story when he found evidence of their battle with the orcs. Bilbo was certainly relieved to hear that he believed them, thinking that it was the end of the unspoken mistrust that passed between him and the company, until he found his world quite unexpectedly tilting sideways as he was picked up and twirled around.

_“Little bunny is getting nice and fat again on bread and honey!” His first reaction was to squawk indignantly at what seemed to be Beorn’s favorite pet name for him, then to whimper as the skin-changer poked once at his belly before setting him back down._

Honestly, _Bilbo thought to himself,_ how rude! And if he doesn’t stop calling me that, I’ll poke _him_ with my sword! _Straightening his waistcoat, he happened to glance in Thorin's direction and saw the hand Gandalf placed on the dwarf's upper arm. He didn't doubt Beorn's action had made the king angry, even as Kíli was whispering anxiously to him._

_"I'm so sorry, he just acted so quickly and Gandalf said not to be rude−"_

_"I'm fine, my lad."_

_"But Uncle is going to murder me," Kíli whimpered._

"I promised we would protect you,” Thorin said, “that you would have no need to feel unsafe around him. If I had been the one to sit by you−"

"Well," Bilbo huffed, "don't blame Kíli. Even I wasn't expecting it, it happened so fast, and remember what Gandalf said."

"Damn that wizard," Thorin growled, although there was hardly any heat to his words. 

"Mmm, well, I can't argue with that." He was still rather stung by the fact that Gandalf had lied to them about knowing Beorn. "Though I am happy you listened, even when it was hard to." This earned him a smile and a soft kiss on the bridge of his nose, making him giggle. 

"I'm happy you came," Thorin sighed.

"Well, I did offer," Bilbo said, casting his eyes down. "I do want this very much. In fact, I am rather embarrassed with how much I desire you." 

"I desire you greatly, perhaps the same amount, so do not feel ashamed." Thorin trailed his lips down Bilbo's nose, nuzzling before claiming his mouth and pulling him close. The hobbit instantly lost his breath, yet persisted in allowing Thorin's tongue to delve into his mouth, moaning as it slowly caressed and tangled with his until he truly needed to break for air.

"Sorry," he gasped, "I should have taken a deeper breath before you...well." Thorin's deep chuckle made him giggle. "I wasn't aware I was so out of practice."

"We have all night, dear one."

"Yes," Bilbo hummed in agreement, looking back up into deep blue eyes. "And I fully intend to make the most of it." 

Thorin nodded, swallowing once before bringing a hand back up to cup Bilbo’s chin and tilt his head up.

“Breathe,” he murmured, and Bilbo obeyed. Confident lips covered his again, the thumb at his jaw smoothing over skin and drawing incomprehensible patterns until the muscles in his face relaxed. He whimpered when a particularly sensitive spot had been brushed over, hips bucking forward once and causing Thorin to moan− an utterly wanton sound that made the hobbit's toes curl. When he regained some of his sense, Bilbo’s fingers moved up the king’s chest to start working some of the laces of his tunic free.

"I'm glad I don’t have to take your armor off," he murmured.

"I'm afraid we don't have _that_ much time," Thorin chuckled, tickling Bilbo's ear. 

"Ooh." He shivered, faltering and playfully hitting Thorin's broad chest. "You do know hobbit ears are very sensitive."

"I thought as much." Bilbo thought that had been the end of it until lips trailed up his jaw and a tongue ventured out to very softly caress his earlobe. His knees buckled and he would have fallen if it hadn't been for Thorin's grip on his waist. "Perhaps I'll save that for when we make it to the bed?"

"If we make it," Bilbo grumbled, pulling Thorin's shirt rather forcefully over his head. He was met with a wolfish grin, though, and a very very toned chest. If he thought he had a chance to appreciate it before, it was nothing compared to the fact that it was right there in front of him practically begging to be touched. 

And...well, he was allowed to touch it now. He gently ran both hands from the base of his neck down to trace his clavicles, brushing his sternum before separating to admire his pectorals and tease his nipples. He blushed at Thorin's breathy moan, leaning closer to join their hips until he could start to feel the pleasure he gave him. With renewed confidence, he continued to try and elicit more sounds from him, and when he moved in to lick at an already hardened nipple, he thought that someone would come running to investigate after the truly animalistic noise Thorin made.

"It has been some time for me as well," the king gasped, and Bilbo was pleased to see color rise in his cheeks for the first time. "But that, this is...something I remember liking very much indeed, though I fear I won't manage to stay upright if you continue."

"Now you know how it feels when you touch my ears," he whispered, grinning devilishly. Kissing the skin just right above the sensitive flesh, he winked before pulling away and working on his own trousers. Thorin watched his every move, eyes heavy-lidded and smoldering until Bilbo was sure he was doing it on purpose. “Must you be so tempting?” He received a shrug in response before the king slipped a hand down to the front of his trousers, hesitating a moment before undoing the buttons with deft fingers and pushing the fabric down his thick legs. 

The hobbit’s mouth dried at the sight, watching as his dwarfhood sprang free as if it had waited impatiently for this very moment. Again, not that he hadn’t accidentally seen it before, but now that he was allowed a proper look, he had to admire the simplicity of it. Not that it was unimpressive− it was very much so, and Bilbo’s mouth begin to water just as soon as it had dried− but it wasn’t intimidating. Bilbo had his fair share of experience and led himself to believe that dwarves would be rather more endowed compared to hobbits, yet it fit Thorin’s size. Not too big or small, perhaps an inch longer than expected with a slight curve that made Bilbo’s heart stutter, and...inviting. 

_How odd,_ he thought to himself, _I feel as if I am right where I should be._

Thorin’s posture was very open, shoulders rolled back once he was rid of all his clothing and arms held loosely by his sides. He looked calm, as if they truly did have all the time in the world, and patiently waited for Bilbo to make his next move. The hobbit wasn’t quite sure what to do next besides just throw himself at the king, but when the king raised a single brow he looked down and realized he still had his trousers on.

“Oh.” 

Thorin smirked and proceeded to saunter past him− just out of reach− until he climbed onto the bed with a graceless grunt. Bilbo ducked his head to hide his smile, knowing that he too would have trouble with the very “Beorn-sized” bed, although it was quite funny to see one as majestic as Thorin struggle with something as simple as a bed.

“Fine,” the king murmured, settling on his back with one arm behind his head, “then I shall not help you up.”

“Assuming I need help,” Bilbo quipped. He peeked up and laughed openly at Thorin’s pout. Well, it was as close to a pout as Thorin ever managed, but Bilbo knew it for what it was. 

Slowly, ever aware of the dwarf watching his every move, he undressed and felt an unwelcome chill in places he’d obviously rather feel heat. Thorin said nothing, completely still with the exception of his cock twitching slightly at the sight of a naked Bilbo. He quietly thanked his good hobbit eyes for being able to notice such a small occurrence, for it gave him yet another boost of confidence.

“So you really aren’t going to help me?” he wondered, walking over to the empty side of the bed. Thorin hummed, eyes ever watchful, but made no other response. Bilbo huffed and shook his head, pushing all thoughts of attempting to act seductive to the side in favor of taking a firm grip of the sheets and clambering up the side until he was splayed (slightly panting) on top of the warm quilt. A quiet chuckle broke into deep laughter beside him, and he lay grumbling to himself while he waited for Thorin to finish.

He could feel the heat radiating off of the king, the bed shaking slightly with his laughter, and longed to touch again. Before he could even turn to him, though, that furnace of a body carefully slipped over him until his entire front was covered with dwarf. Thorin’s dark mane swayed forward, tickling Bilbo’s hairless chest and making the breath catch in his throat while steel eyes gleamed down at him in an unwavering gaze.

“Bilbo,” Thorin murmured, kissing him once before saying, “talk to me.” The hobbit took in a shuddering breath before meeting his eyes, cocking his head slightly.

“About what?” Rough palms lightly swept up his sides, making him shiver before they came to rest on his neck. The sound he made at a finger tickling the pulse point in his neck surprised him, but Thorin only smiled.

“About what pleases you.” His voice was a low rumble as he spoke.

_Like thunder,_ Bilbo thought to himself, but thankfully very much unlike the battle that nearly took his life. He was kept grounded by Thorin or _pinned,_ more like, but he found he preferred it that way. If Thorin hadn’t taken the position above him, there was no telling when his good hobbit sense might have kicked in and sent him bolting. As it was, with such a massive warrior king looming over him and caressing one of the most vulnerable parts of his body with two powerful hands, Bilbo’s body hummed with a type of energy that was instead anxious not to run, but to stay and see what would happen next. He still shook slightly with that energy, turning Thorin’s expression into one of concern.

“A lot of things, I suppose,” he spoke quickly so the dwarf wouldn’t pull back. “Food, for one. That’s always high on a hobbit’s list of the pleasures in life. Erm, oh, pipeweed! I do miss the taste of Old Toby. You would like it, I’m sure, though I have to say it is a bit stronger than the shag you seem partial to.”

“Stronger?” Thorin wondered.

“Oh yes, quite.”

“Then hobbits continue to surprise me. Here I thought you were simple folk who enjoyed the delicate things in life.”

“If you tasted what we drink at our parties after a certain hour, you would think twice about that and perhaps be without the lining of your gut. Simple does not always mean softer.”

“Indeed,” the dwarf chuckled. “Continue, please.”

“Yes, well, we enjoy company too. Our families are big in numbers so it is not uncommon to come across another for the first time and learn he is your cousin, although we tend to be very knowledgeable about our lineage.” Bilbo cleared his throat. “However, I may have only learned that he was my cousin after we snogged in the back of Farmer Maggot’s barn.” 

“Should I be jealous?”

“It was just innocent fun, though I did learn quite a bit that summer,” he added quietly. “You can say it peaked my curiosity.” 

Thorin hummed, moving his hand aside to dip down and kiss where his stroking finger had been. Bilbo found himself holding his breath again, if only to stifle any embarrassing noises that threatened to bubble out of his throat, but by Yavanna did that feel wonderful! His toes curled as teeth dragged along his neck and his hips lifted just a little, but it was enough to have Thorin respond by settling his weight even further into him. As their hips touched, Bilbo clutched at Thorin’s back without meaning to, but the king only continued his ministrations until he pulled back and took a sharp breath through his nose.

“Bilbo.”

“And that thing with our ears,” the hobbit went on, voice a bit strangled, “you are very much welcome to take full advantage of that provided I am already prone.”

“But if I do anything against your liking,” he said gently, “you will let me know.”

“Of course I will.” Bilbo smiled. “And you’ll let me know too, right?”

“I will.”

“Good, that’s very, oh…nice, mmn…” Thorin’s lips were nuzzling the shell of his ear, the touch still curious, but enough to reduce Bilbo into a squirming, blushing mess.

“That is lovely,” the king whispered, his breath making the poor hobbit moan. “So now I know of two areas that give you pleasure.” Bilbo cried out in surprise as hips suddenly ground into his, making pleasure spark in his belly and his member respond by swelling between them and jutting up against Thorin’s already rock hard sex. “Or three, rather,” the king went on. He waited for Bilbo to catch his breath before feathering lighter kisses from the tip of his ear down to his jaw, back to where he started.

“There are more, of course,” Bilbo said quietly, then giggled when Thorin raised an eyebrow. “If  
you can find them, that is.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Perhaps.”

“Is there a specific number?”

“I don’t know!” the hobbit laughed, shaking his head. “You are certainly a dwarf, aren’t you, always trying to make a game out of everything just so you can win.” He reached up to twirl a long strand of silver hair around his finger, surprised yet rather pleased at the sheepish look on Thorin’s face. “It’s not a bad thing,” he added, shifting and making the dwarf groan. His smile grew wider. “Can you help me count?” Thorin let out a shaky breath before touching his forehead to Bilbo’s. As he murmured something in Khuzdul, the only word Bilbo managed to catch sounded like _âzyungâl_ , but they were kissing again before he could question it.

The tender ways in which Thorin continued to treat his body would have put Bilbo to sleep had he not been so aroused. Each sensitive spot was given full attention, as if the great king was committing to memory every sigh and moan he managed to draw out of the hobbit, and where he could return to if he felt like hearing such sounds again. Bilbo knew this was his intent, for he seemed to find great pleasure whenever the hobbit responded in any way to his attentions.

“Uh...oh, dear me, yes that’s...number six? I think so...mmf.” There was one particular spot on the inside of his thigh that responded remarkably well to Thorin’s beard, so much so that Bilbo feared losing control and releasing much too early for his liking. He at least wanted to feel Thorin’s hot mouth close around him before doing such a thing, because he certainly knew how talented he was with it.

“Mahal,” Thorin groaned, looking up at him with dark eyes. Bilbo gulped at the sight, closing his own eyes for a brief moment in order to collect himself. “I never knew you were capable of such pretty sounds. I may not last for very long. When I say it has been a while, well…”

“I know.” Bilbo looked back down at him, reaching up push a dark lock behind his ear. “I almost had to warn you there for a moment. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.” Thorin laughed at that, but Bilbo caught him just as he ducked his head to try and hide a wince. “Don’t think I didn’t see that.” 

The king’s shoulders slumped and he let out a heavy sigh, lowering himself until he rested on his better side with his cheek on Bilbo’s thigh.

“I still ache,” he said softly, “but I wish to continue.”

Bilbo nodded, chewing on his lip while deep in thought, until he said, 

“Lie on your back.” When Thorin raised an eyebrow, he only shrugged. “It’s my turn, anyway.”

“But I wish to please you.”

“It would please me greatly to have the chance to explore this impressive body of yours.” He nudged him, placing his hands on his broad shoulders and pushing gently. “And I would also be more content knowing that you were comfortable.”

Thorin grumbled but soon obeyed, settling on his back once again. When he let out a great sigh, Bilbo knew it was what he needed as he watched the king’s muscles relax.

“Better?” he asked, carefully straddling his thick waist. Thorin hissed, out of pleasure this time, as they joined again and Bilbo smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He circled his hips once, letting out a breathy sigh before kissing along his chest. 

“Tease,” Thorin breathed, and Bilbo shivered when the king firmly gripped his waist. 

“Of all the things,” the hobbit murmured, stroking his fingers through the thick hair running down Thorin’s torso. “Honestly, with all this hair one would mistake you for a wolf!”

“In more ways than one, I should hope.”

The quip came out so quick and smooth that Bilbo stuttered for a moment, then proceeded to meet the dwarf’s cheeky grin with a glare.

“With no humility to speak of.” He was met with a laugh and a slight pinch to his bum that made his cock twitch. 

“If I’m a wolf, then you are a fox,” Thorin whispered, continuing to drag his nails along plump skin. Bilbo had to stifle a groan when those same fingers traced along his crease, twitching both from ticklishness and pleasure. “Quiet, cunning, too smart for your own good.” 

"More like a mouse," he snorted, "or a bunny."

"No." Thorin shook his head, nudging Bilbo until their foreheads were pressed together and kissing him very tenderly. "Never a bunny."

"Never a bunny," Bilbo repeated breathily, a small smile lifting his lips. "That'll be my new battle cry." When Thorin quirked an eyebrow, he couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, I'm just flattered, really."

With a great sigh, though not without a smile of his own, the king teased along Bilbo’s jaw once more before latching onto his ear, firmer this time and increasingly daring. The hobbit gasped, shivering and hips bucking as wet warmth trail along the shell of his ear, then flicking in and out just as a finger lightly circled his hole.

Who’s the tease now? he thought to himself. He would have voiced it had he not feared letting out a high-pitched whine instead. Deciding to gain back at least some of his control, he snuck a hand down to fit in between their sweat damp thighs and took hold of Thorin’s cock. Steel blue eyes widened like saucers, then darkened once more as the king shuddered and arched off the bed.

“Careful,” Bilbo murmured, stroking firmly yet steadying the king with his other hand. “The point is to not hurt yourself.”

“Mahal, Bilbo, I _cannot…_ ” Thorin almost looked as if he would lose all control, but that wasn’t what Bilbo wanted just yet.

“Hold on,” he whispered against his lips. “Don’t let go yet. I wish to try something.” With one last kiss, he moved down the king’s body to where his hand still stroked with a feather light touch, nuzzling and mouthing at coarse hair. He was reminded of the hair on his feet− just as sensitive too since Thorin let out a low moan of appreciation, then a stream of curses as Bilbo nudged a particularly sensitive spot.

Quickly, out of fear that he would miss his opportunity, he slid his hand all the way to the base of Thorin’s length and mouthed the tip before starting to take it into his mouth. Thorin’s breaths were reduced to short, sharp gasps as Bilbo licked and sucked, and the hobbit now hoped the king would find his release. He remembered the interest he once took in the act, of the intimacy that came with swallowing the seed of your lover.

_Oh my,_ his thoughts whispered, _these aren’t hobbit-like thoughts at all, Bilbo Baggins._

If he were honest with himself, though, he couldn’t really bring himself to care. Not when he had a king quivering underneath him, coming completely undone due to his mouth and hands alone. The very thought made him grab at his own cock, but before he could even begin to tend to his own needs, Thorin was shouting a warning he chose to ignore. He swallowed the thick spurts of release that coated the back of his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on not choking. The musky, salty taste brought back vague memories from years ago, but he pushed them aside in favor of being in the moment. He was with _Thorin_ , doing things he wouldn’t have dared dream about only days before, and that alone made his mouth stretch into a smile around the king’s slowly softening member.

He continued to tend to Thorin, adoring the vulnerable sounds coming from his lips, until the dwarf eventually calmed and put a hand in the hobbit’s hair.

“That’s,” he started hoarsely, twitching as Bilbo continued to lick the sensitive flesh, “uh...enough. Please, I−” He shuddered once more and the hobbit obeyed, pulling off and wiping at his mouth. 

After massaging his jaw (he would admit that the ache was not completely unpleasant), Bilbo crept back up to face Thorin. He winced at the insistent pressure of his own erection, but was fascinated with how serene the king looked. There were barely any lines on his face, and while Bilbo didn't mind them, he thought it made him look younger and calmer. He didn't have the troubles of losing his home and loved ones, of fighting orcs and trying to safely lead his company members across Middle Earth to fight a dragon. Not in this moment. His cheeks were rose-colored, his eyes shining, and the softest smile Bilbo had ever seen rested gently on his lips. He looked like a prince.

“My _thurkhkhai_ ,” Thorin rumbled, reaching up to stroke a hand through Bilbo’s hair. The hobbit leaned into it, closing his eyes and humming softly.

“Will you teach me your language one day?” he quietly wondered. 

“Maybe.” One of his nails gently scraped across the point of Bilbo’s ear, making him squirm and gasp as his sex rubbed against the king’s stomach. “But for now, Bilbo, come.”

“Hmm?” He cracked an eye open, wondering what he meant until he realized, “Oh. Up there?” The twinkle in Thorin’s eyes was his answer, and he had to duck his head. “I have done many things, but I cannot say I am familiar with that position.”

“You are small enough so that you won’t harm me, even if you were to lose your balance.” Bilbo scoffed at the king’s smirk. “It is unusual, I will grant you that, but it’s either that or I harm myself in my desperate attempt to bring you to completion.”

“Well, there will be none of that.” He hesitated, chewing his bottom lip before climbing up to hover over Thorin’s mouth. If he were to be honest with himself, he found it both awkward yet incredibly _dirty_ , and once he found his balance excitement shot through him until he was almost giddy with it. The wink Thorin offered before closing his mouth around him certainly didn’t help.

“ _Oh!_ ” He grabbed the headboard, immediately overcome with the pleasure. The slick heat of the king’s mouth was overwhelming, and the way his tongue curled around him...oh, it was exquisite. The hobbit trembled as waves of pleasure rolled through his body, the base of his spine tingling right up to his ears, and he fought to keep his balance. He nearly slipped, but Thorin’s strong hands came up to grip his waist just in time, and Bilbo breathed a shaky sigh of relief before losing himself to the moment again.

He was mindful not to lose too much control, but as he began rolling and circling his hips, the utter luxury of Thorin tending to him in such a way overcame his senses. A certain warmth pooled in his stomach again and when Thorin licked a hard line along the bottom of his shaft, he knew this would end quickly.

“Thorin,” he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He was reduced to sobbing moans, almost finding it difficult to breathe. The king hummed around him, and he was embarrassed later on to admit he yelped at the sensation, but the vibrations shooting up into him triggered a feeling he knew he hadn’t felt in years. He hunched over, forehead pressing against the wall as he gripped the wood of the headboard tight, voicing a warning but unaware of the response as his release shook through him. Crying out perhaps louder than he intended, he was dazed by the exhilarating feelings of pure ecstasy and relief, shaking in the king’s firm grip.

The shock of such a quick release left him immobile for a few moments, only managing to turn his head to the side and continue to suck in desperate breaths.

“That,” he managed to gasp, “was− ah!” He twitched as Thorin pulled away and cool air hit him once again. It helped him come to, but he slid back down to rest along Thorin’s side seeking warmth. The king pulled a blanket over them before turning and wrapping an arm snug around Bilbo’s middle.

“Care to finish that statement?” he murmured, lips pressed into the hobbit’s hair.

“Mmm,” Bilbo sighed, eyelids heavy, “yes, I quite enjoyed that.”

“As did I.”

“Better than Old Toby.”

“If you say so.”

“Or Auntie Mae’s−” he paused to give a great, cracking yawn, “−cream puffs.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin chuckled, “go to sleep.”

“Mmf.” 

As Bilbo dozed off, happily sated, a low humming came from where he cuddled against the king’s chest. It took him a sleepy moment to realize Thorin was singing, lips barely moving against his forehead, and although he couldn’t make out the words the tone was low and sweet as if it were a lullaby his mother would sing to him. He breathed a shaky sigh and tightened his arms around Thorin’s middle, placing a soft kiss in the middle of his chest before succumbing to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit from the future- Lilaroux over on Tumblr is an amazing artist, and drew Fili and Kili playing their honeycake game! Check it out:   
>  http://lilaroux.tumblr.com/post/66381640957/beorns-big-buzzing-bees-from-the-prompt-fili  
> \- - -
> 
> A big THANK YOU to all who have reviewed, bookmarked, left kudos, subscribed, or just simply read so far! This story has been with me for some time now, and I have quite a bit of it written, but I do have to say that updates will not be as often as they have been. My semester is starting to get a bit heavy, so my focuses will have to be on my studies, although my goal is to at least go up to BoFA before DoS comes out in December. I will aim for monthly updates. Again, THANK YOU for reading. You can find me over on my Tumblr [Blog](http://pentamatr.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk about Hobbit feels or just fandom feels in general. I'd love to hear from you <3
> 
> \- - -
> 
> Khuzdul-English translations  http://www.scribd.com/doc/98387422/Khuzdul-Dictionary-E-K-v01-JUN12
> 
> âzyungâl- lover  
> thurkhkhai- fox
> 
>  
> 
> Part One title ("No Quarter") by Led Zeppelin  
> Series title ("Thunder on the Mountain") by Bob Dylan


	3. Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shadows of Mirkwood await Bilbo and the company after their pleasant, and revealing, stay at Beorn's house. When Gandalf leaves them to fend for themselves in the forsaken wood, nerves are put to the test as hunger and the elements start to take their toll. Bilbo finds strength in his love for Thorin and the dwarves, but when he is lost and alone, can he push aside his fears to perform his duties as company burglar once again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a slight warning for animal death. If you've read the book you'll be familiar with it, but I know since I tend to be a bit sensitive about animals being hurt/dying, I thought I'd give a heads up. 
> 
> Many continued thanks and love to my beta/sanity: cakelydemise

The time came when the company finally had to part ways with Beorn and the safety of his house. They were quick to pack up, but since the skin-changer had a few more words to say to them, Bilbo took it upon himself to ready the ponies the man had graciously provided them with.

With the day already well underway and the sun shining high in the clear sky, he breathed in the scent of the fresh flowers. He knew it would be a very long time until he smelled such a crisp, sweet smell again, and his heart longed momentarily for the Shire and his garden. Shaking his head, he knew very well that his choice had been made, that now the Shire must share his heart with a dwarven king.

If the flowers made him smile, now he was positively grinning as he made his way to the ponies, still very much pleased with the events of the night before…

_He woke up, pleased to find Thorin’s hair draped over him like a blanket and that they were still wrapped in each other’s arms. The moment he went to move, however, Thorin hugged him even tighter._

_“I’m only stretching,” he playfully insisted._

_“You’re warm,” Thorin said, his voice a low growl. Bilbo giggled, then squeaked as he suddenly found himself being straddled and kissed very deeply into the pillows until his toes were curling out of pure bliss._

“Oh! Dear Yavanna…” Bilbo was unfortunately startled out of his pleasant thoughts by an orc head that was stuck on a sharp pike just outside of Beorn’s fence, as well as the skin of a warg nailed to a tree some footsteps away. He had to look away, good thoughts completely gone as his mood sobered.

Death was never something he could become used to, whether it be of a loved one or enemy, and the way Beorn used the death of the orc and the warg to ward off any trespassers made the hobbit’s breakfast turn in his stomach. He didn’t fault the man for his actions. They were rather sensible, yet Bilbo was unsure if he could bring himself to do the same.

“At least we have a fierce friend on our side.”

Surprised at the soft voice, Bilbo turned to find Ori standing beside him. The young dwarf was looking at the orc head with an expression of interest, rather than repulsion.

“That’s one way of saying it.”

“I quite enjoyed our visit,” the lad went on. “I wish we could stay a bit longer. I was only starting to get to know Beorn...he’s quite fascinating, really, once you get over the−” And here he made a rather odd gesture, spreading his arms open and pulling a stern face (which didn’t quite have the effect he was going for) until Bilbo was reduced to giggles.

“Yes, once you get over the fact that you would be crushed under his boot were he to step on you, I can perhaps see his charm.”

“He’s nice, he didn’t mind all the questions I asked and even let me sketch a drawing of him!”

The hobbit smiled knowingly, but only nodded. “I know you have your book packed away, but I should like to see that one day.”

“I’d be happy to show it to you, Mister Bilbo.” The lad’s cheeks were tinged with pink. “Would you like some help with the ponies?”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

They chatted lightly as they performed their task, making sure the food was secure and that the saddles would meet the comfort of both the dwarves and the ponies. Despite the pleasant conversation, however, Ori became quiet and a more solemn look overcame him.

“Something the matter?” Bilbo wondered. The lad sighed and turned to him, brown eyes cautious yet determined.

“I know something happened between you and Nori that night.” Well, for a shy dwarf he certainly got straight to the point! “I mean, Thorin looked so angry and when my brother came back, well, Nori didn’t seem like himself. He looked shaken, and he never looks that way. For as long as I can remember, he’s been the bravest dwarf I’ve ever known. Dori is brave too,” he added quickly, looking down at his feet, “but Nori has done some things for us that I know not many others could do. Above all that, he has his own code of honor he follows. So while his deeds may be questionable,” he looked back up into Bilbo’s eyes, “I know he has a good heart.”

Stunned, Bilbo couldn’t figure out how to respond to that. Should he explain what happened that night? Nori certainly wasn’t himself, although Bilbo didn’t have much to base his true personality off of, but perhaps this was his answer? If anyone knew the dwarf inside and out, certainly it was Ori. The lad was very perceptive, and of course had known Nori all his life. Still, the events of that night were a complicated mess. Many factors played into it, some of which Bilbo still didn’t understand, and he didn’t wish for anyone other than Thorin or Nori to know about his ring.

“I-I, well, I believe you.” He swallowed hard, shaking his head a little. “As long as Thorin trusts him, then I will, and I value your words because I believe you do know him well.” There, that seemed to please Ori. The young dwarf smiled again as if a great weight had been taken from him, and Bilbo sighed.

_He doesn’t need to be burdened for now,_ he thought to himself, _especially if his brother doesn’t act like that again._

Bilbo didn’t know what the chances were of Nori responding to his ring again, but he didn't wish to bring it up. Instead he patted his pocket as Ori walked off, careful not to touch the ring while thinking such things, but assured that it remained safe.

“Bilbo?”

He turned, heartbeat quickening as Thorin approached. The rest of the dwarves had emerged from Beorn’s house and were mounting their ponies, but the king only had eyes for him.

_And they are kind eyes indeed,_ Bilbo thought with a smile. Oh, how he wished their morning could have been longer, or that he could stop time completely until he was satisfied. Although, he feared he would _never_ be able to get enough of the king!

“Are you ready?” Thorin asked softly.

“I suppose,” he sighed. “As I’ll ever be after such a comfortable reprieve.”

Smiling knowingly, Thorin took his hand and guided him over to a pony.

“I have it on good authority that this one is much like your Myrtle had been, although she will not meet such a fate as our last comrades.”

“You’re promising her safety as well?” Bilbo quipped, looking up at him teasingly. This earned him a chuckle.

“I would, but we promised we would send the ponies back as soon as we reached the forest.”

“Ah, I’m sure they would thank us for it if...well…” At this, he leaned playfully into the warmth of Thorin’s chest and whispered. “I’m not saying they _can,_ but I suppose if they are anything like those dogs who could walk on two legs, they may end up thanking us in ways that may surprise us yet.”

To his deep pleasure, Thorin’s laugh was loud enough to make the pony stomp and look back at them with incredulity in its intelligent eyes.

“Up you go, my cheeky hobbit,” he said, wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s waist and kissing the top of his curly head. 

“Hmm,” Bilbo hummed, climbing into the saddle. “ _Your_ hobbit. I quite like that.” Thorin managed to blush at that while mounting his own pony, something Bilbo always knew was a good sign. He smirked, quite proud of himself, and rolled his shoulders once before giving a great sigh. “Shall we?”

“Will you ride beside me, Bilbo?”

The hope in Thorin’s voice melted his pride away, and his smiled turned more genuine when he looked up at the king.

“Of course I will.”

They led the company to where Beorn had instructed them to go, Gandalf riding along beside them and helping to navigate considering some time had passed since Thorin had been there last. Bilbo knew he also wasn’t very good with directions in general, though he never mentioned it to the dwarf. It would only hurt his pride that the hobbit found amusement in such a stoic and commanding king being prone to getting lost, even if Bilbo found it endearing.

As it turned out, they had a few more days to go yet before they would reach the border of Mirkwood, but they rode for as long as the ponies could stand it. The first two nights passed without any trouble, Bilbo finding peace again as he slept next to Thorin. It was the third night, however, that left him rather unsettled.

He was just nodding off after a quiet conversation with Thorin when he saw a dark figure out of the corner of his eye. It would have been easy to write off as a trick of the moonlight had it not been for its sudden movement. The hobbit sat up immediately with a curse, reaching for his sword, and would have stood had it not been for a hand on his forearm.

“What is it?” Thorin murmured. When Bilbo looked down, the king looked very serious and had his other hand on the blade still sheathed at his side.

“I saw…something,” he whispered. “It wasn’t a trick of the light, though, it was really there.”

“Calm yourselves,” a stern voice interrupted them. 

“Did you see it, wizard?” Thorin frowned.

“It is only Beorn keeping an eye out for us.”

“The skin-changer followed us?” Thorin sounded rather angry at this, although Bilbo was oddly comforted.

“He only wishes to see that we are treating his ponies right,” Gandalf sighed, puffing at his pipe. “You have nothing to fear from him.”

“But he’s in his bear form, right?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes, and as long as we don’t bother him, he will have no reason to approach us. Get some sleep, now, we have a long journey ahead.”

Sleep didn’t come easy for Bilbo, though, even if they had a silent guardian watching over them. Beorn was still a bear, and still quite dangerous according to what Gandalf had said earlier, although the wizard didn’t seem to be too bothered at the moment.

“Be at peace, Bilbo,” he heard Thorin murmur. “Sleep will not come for me tonight, so I will watch over you and the rest of the company.”

Bilbo turned back to the king, making a noise of protest in his throat.

“You should sleep, though, it’s good for you.”

“It is not my choice some nights.” Thorin accepted the hobbit’s outstretched hand, kissing his knuckles before holding it close to his heart. Saddened, Bilbo shifted closer to him until he could at least feel the king’s warmth. “Sleep, Bilbo. For me.”

After a while, Bilbo managed to do so, although his sleep was rather fitful this time around. Despite this, the king was there to run fingers through his hair and whisper that everything was all right, so that come morning Bilbo had at least managed a few hours rest before they set off again.

There came a moment on their journey where they were suddenly aware of the stillness around them. No birds sang and there was little to no wildlife found scurrying about. Even the air was silent and stale. Not so long after this, trees began to emerge in a dark line across the landscape, and it became clear that they were approaching Mirkwood.

“Ain’t that a welcoming sight?” Bofur remarked, to which other the other dwarves grumbled their agreement. Bilbo had to concede, wondering if the lack of living things around them was any indication of how the forest treated outsiders.

There wasn’t any hesitation, even if Thorin’s demeanor was rather grim, and by mid-afternoon they had stopped in front of the treeline at last.

“Well, this is where we part, my friends,” Gandalf sighed. “Unpack your ponies so you can send them off, lest an angry Beorn pursues you along with all of the other troubles in this forest.”

Grumbling, the company only protested at this until the wizard threatened to turn all of their packs to dust. Bilbo snorted as he dismounted. He wouldn’t want to put the ponies in that type of danger anyway. They were nice to have, but they were too easy to harm or steal. He gave his a gentle neck rub after setting his pack on his back, checking his pockets again for his ring just to be certain.

“You are quite lucky, my friend,” he whispered, running his fingers through the horse’s mane. “I too have a big, strong somebody to look after me, but you get to return to your safe home knowing he will be safe as well. And you don’t have to worry about silly rings falling out of your pockets either!” The horse snorted and bumped the hobbit’s chest with her head, making him chuckle and sneeze.

“For someone who doesn’t like horses, my dear fellow, you have befriended more than one on this journey.”

“I’ve never  _disliked_ them, really,” Bilbo sighed, looking up at Gandalf. “I’m just allergic to them.” The horse snorted again, as if she were laughing, then playfully flicked the hobbit with her tail as she turned to follow the others off. 

“They like you in any case,” the wizard chuckled, handing him a handkerchief as he sneezed again multiple times.

“Ugh, well, no friendship is perfect.” Gandalf sobered at this, brows stitched and eyes filled with concern until Bilbo was starting to become unnerved. “Erm−”

“I hope we part on good terms, my dear lad. You have been unhappy with me, I know, and sometimes for good reasons.” The hobbit bit back a retort− _sometimes?_ − and let the wizard continue. “I may have been vague at times, told a few tall tales, but it was never my intention to harm our friendship. That is, if we are still friends?”

Bilbo softened at this and uncrossed his arms.

“Well...sometimes friends make each other angry, but that doesn’t mean they stop being friends.” He couldn’t believe his eyes, but Gandalf actually looked relieved at this!

“I am most grateful to you, for I would leave with a troubled heart if that were not the case.” The wizard placed a hand on his shoulder. “Please believe in yourself, Bilbo, and remember what I said before. You bring many in this company hope, myself included, although I think Thorin benefits the most from it.” With that, he climbed back onto his horse and gave a wink. “And I do believe congratulations are in order. Do look after your king, my lad, for Erebor awaits his return.” 

Before Bilbo could even attempt a response− his face red and his mouth sputtering− Gandalf galloped off. How...ooh, if he ever saw that wizard again he would just−

“He has that effect on me as well.” Bilbo spun to face the king in question, too embarrassed to respond. “Well, that will be the last we see of him for a while, if we ever see him again. Come, Bilbo, the forest awaits.”

With a sigh, he stayed close to Thorin’s side as they followed the path into the dark forest. As soon as they walked in, even though the sun was still up, they were shrouded in twilight with only about half of an hour to spare before total darkness would fall. They pressed on, however, without knowing of their limited time, and very soon had to stop completely lest they lose each other. It was all they could do to huddle close together. Bilbo didn’t even know which of the dwarves he ended up next to (having lost Thorin at some point when he became interested in a grotesque looking flower) and so he spent almost the entire night looking out at glowing eyes that blinked and stared back. It went without saying how exhausted he was the next day as they continued their journey along the never-ending path.

“You didn’t sleep well, did you,” Fíli stated quietly. The hobbit jumped, startled to find himself walking next to the lad. He could have sworn Bofur was just beside him!

“Not at all,” he admitted.

“As soon as we saw those eyes, Kíli was trying to bury himself under me.”

“They were what kept me awake,” Bilbo admitted. “I was along the edge of the group, and when I woke up only then did I realize I had Ori on my right and Balin on my left. It could have been any of the company for all I couldn’t see in that darkness!”

“You would have rather slept next to Uncle,” Fíli nodded.

“Well…I suppose I−”

“Come now, Mister Baggins,” the lad sighed, “I know about the both of you. There’s no need to pretend around me. Although I haven’t told anyone,” he added quickly, once Bilbo opened his mouth to protest, “and I don’t intend to. The two of you slept next to each other on the way here, and I saw you at Beorn’s. Kíli almost did too, but I managed to get him away quick enough. The whole company would know by now if I hadn’t.” Bilbo surprised himself by chuckling. “For me, it’s about respect and I hold a great amount of it for Uncle and you. Kíli just expresses his differently.”

“I do appreciate it, my lad,” Bilbo sighed. “I’m sure the rest will all find out in their own ways. As for sleeping next to each other, well, I admit the first time sleeping in this forest would have been much better had it been next to your uncle.

“I think he feels the same,” Fíli snorted. “You should have seen him this morning. As soon as he woke up, he immediately looked around for you. Now he’s in one of his moods, probably because he didn’t have his burglar sleeping by him in the night.”

“A king like him missing his little burglar?” Bilbo chuckled.

“Sleep by him tonight and see if it doesn’t make an impact on his mood tomorrow.”

“Well, I fully intend to whether he likes it or not.”

“I’m sure he won’t protest,” the prince laughed.

 

 - - - - - - - - - -

 

After yet another day of trudging along the path, at the first sign that the already dim light under the canopy of trees was waning, Thorin called the company to a halt. Sighing and grumbling to themselves they did just that, reaching for bedrolls and waterskins as well as what little food they had left. Bilbo immediately went for his ration of food, nibbling on the piece of bread and trying to savor it. They were five or six days away from Beorn’s and already their stores were decreasing at an alarming rate. Perhaps they should have rationed better, but there really was nothing for it. They were constantly on the move and had to keep their energy up by eating. There was no use trying to stay alert on an empty stomach.

Bilbo’s stomach let out a growl long enough that Dwalin, who was standing beside him, raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry,” the hobbit sighed. He knew the rest of the company was just as hungry as he was, but he didn’t need his stomach announcing it! He also didn’t want pity, so he nearly squawked his refusal when Dwalin handed him a piece of dried meat. “I really don’t−”

“Eat it, lad, you aren’t used to hunger.”

Bilbo looked up at the warrior in shock.

“But what about you? You’re much bigger than I am, surely you need it more.” But when he tried giving it back, the dwarf just turned away.

“I have another piece,” he grunted, retreating to the other side of their camp. Still a bit stunned, Bilbo barely managed to stutter out a quiet “thank you” before he took a seat on a tree stump and nibbled at the meat. Honestly, these dwarves would never stop surprising him.

“He speaks the truth.” A warm hand came to rest between the hobbit’s shoulder blades and he relaxed into it, knowing that voice from anywhere. “He is experienced when dealing with hunger, as are all of us who have been exiled from Erebor.”

Bilbo shifted so Thorin could sit beside him.

“I imagine you didn’t have much time to grab food when fleeing from the dragon.”

“We were forced to beg at first,” Thorin said, bowing his head, “when we were denied employment, that is. Sickness easily overcomes the weak who have nothing in their bellies, but for the rest of us, we adapted.” Bilbo felt a great sadness once again on behalf of Thorin and the rest of his kingdom, to the point where he hardly felt hungry anymore. “Aye, but that is the past. We carry those learned behaviors with us still, yet we continue on. Eat, and do not worry yourself. I will not see you suffer from hunger as well. You are quite hardy, but I do not wish to test that.”

“Nor do I,” Bilbo smiled. “Already I feel quite drowsy, but I don’t think the walking is to blame.”

“Don’t hold your tongue if you feel faint or ill. Promise me?”

“Of course. I promise, although I must admit I have never experienced true hunger.”

“I pray you never do,” Thorin sighed. “These woods don’t have much to offer any of us by way of sustenance, but I will make sure starvation will not befall you.”

“I thought you couldn’t guarantee my safety?” he quipped. The king faltered, wincing at his own words being used against him and Bilbo instantly wished he could take them back.

“I can damn well try,” he said.

“Right,” the hobbit said softly. “I will too. I managed it once, anyway, I’m sure I could do it again.”

“I really must ask that you never endanger your life on my behalf again.”

“I do it every day that I’m with you on this journey. Not that I begrudge you or anyone for that,” he added quickly, watching as Thorin’s expression became increasingly worried. “I just…I don’t mind anymore. I _want_ to help.” He chuckled sadly. “I’m still not much, but I’m starting to realize what I do have. I need to see this bloody thing through and you lot safe in Erebor.”

“Risking your life will not help us before it is time to face the dragon. Even then−”

“I have my ring,” Bilbo answered boldly. “And if you’re thinking twice about sending me in to face Smaug, I find myself rather disappointed. I was hired for the task in the first place.” He felt his shoulders drop as a thought occurred to him, and his next words were barely more than a whisper. “If this is about what happened at Beorn’s, then we don’t have to continue.” His words were met with a strange noise from Thorin, and soon his jaw was being gently cradled by two large, calloused hands so that he had no choice but to look into the king’s eyes. 

“Pride runs deep in my bloodline. If you think I could easily regret what we shared, then I fear you do not know me as well as you should.”

“I do believe we only just met not long ago.” The hobbit’s laugh was small and breathy. “We shouldn’t expect to know everything about each other yet.”

“Aye,” Thorin conceded, absently tracing Bilbo’s bottom lip with his thumb. “Perhaps not, but I do know that I am confident in your ability to burgle a dragon.” 

“Well, thank you,” Bilbo smiled.

“However much I have come to dislike putting you in danger.”

“We must, as they say, agree to disagree.”

Thorin looked confused at this. 

“And who are ‘they’?” 

“I, well, nevermind.” Bilbo smiled, kissing the palm of Thorin's hand before standing and stretching. “I do think I’ll turn in for the night, if you will excuse my abruptness.” 

“We are of the same mind, then.” 

“Good, because I really would like to set my bedroll beside yours tonight.” He knew the tips of his ears were turning red, but he didn’t falter. “That is, I suspect I slept poorly last night because I felt…” He paused for a moment, humming as he searched for the word. “Unguarded,” he nodded. 

“Really?” Only the corner of Thorin’s mouth twitched, but his eyes gave away his mirth. 

“Certainly. I know it’s foolish with a company of thirteen dwarves surrounding me. No doubt all of you sleep like babes every night.” If Thorin pulled a face at this, then Bilbo pretended not to notice. He believed what Fíli had claimed, he just knew Thorin would be embarrassed and most likely angry to admit what he would view as a weakness. The hobbit, however, would always be touched that a warrior king slept poorly simply because he didn’t have his burglar come lover resting beside him. “I find I’m much fonder of sleeping in the middle next to ones I know will wake easily if any threat comes along,” he added quietly. That and he suspected his nightmares truly did abate whenever Thorin was next to him. 

“I would be very happy to have you sleep beside me tonight,” the king said, “and every night, for that matter. Come, we’ll set up before it becomes too dark to see once more.” 

“What a dreary place,” Bilbo murmured, following Thorin back to the company. They picked their way to the middle, stepping over dwarves who were already fast asleep. “I certainly hope we find our way out soon.” 

“These woods stretch far beyond the imagination, dear hobbit,” Thorin sighed. “I fear we have many weeks yet to travel through them.” Bilbo felt slightly panicked at this, but didn’t allow it to show. _Weeks!_ He wasn’t sure how they wouldn’t starve before then, and there was a sinking feeling in his gut not unlike hunger. He really would just have to trust Thorin, then. They all would. 

“We’ll make it,” he said, trying to sound confident. The look Thorin gave him was questioning, but Bilbo must have sounded convincing for the king soon conceded. 

“We will,” he nodded. When he bent to set out his bedroll Bilbo did the same, using it as a cover to let his expression return to one of distress. Perhaps he could figure out a way to see just how long they really had before leaving these woods behind. Weeks just seemed impossibly long and Bilbo was convinced there was another way. 

“G’night, Mister Baggins.” Turning, he found Kíli peeking up at him from where he rested beneath his sleeping brother’s arm. He smiled kindly. 

“Good night, my lad.” He watched as the prince closed his eyes and drifted off, hoping he would find peace despite the unwanted “guardians” that would watch them again during the night. He shivered, cursing himself for remembering them and quickly diving under the cover of his bedroll before he could think on it any longer. 

“Bilbo,” he heard Thorin say, and shifted so that he faced him again. Now he faced the broad expanse of his armored chest, feeling the welcome warmth coming from him. “Sleep well tonight.” 

“I’ll try.” A heavy arm came to wrap around his middle and pulled him closer so that he was now nestled against that chest. The furs Thorin wore were soft against his cheek and he hummed softly in content. “Now I really will.” He felt rather than heard the king chuckle, and a kiss was placed gently on his curls. He knew there was another dwarf at his back, that Fíli and Kíli were close by, and for the first time since entering Mirkwood, he was starting to feel safe. After a few more moments of breathing steadily and calming his nerves, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

About a week had passed by before anything exciting happened to the company. They were moving along at their usual pace when they came upon the problem of the river. Beorn had warned against the enchanted waters of the forest, although one look at how murky it was and how foul it smelt would have warned any creature away. Still, they had to pass over it somehow in order to continue following the path. They argued, of course, until Bilbo suddenly spotted something that made his heart leap.

“Look! There, across the bank!”

“What?” Thorin asked, for he was right next to the hobbit. “What do you see?”

“You mean you can’t see the boat?”

“My eyes are old, Bilbo, and certainly not as sharp as yours.” But after some squinting, the king finally nodded. “Aye, well done. Fíli! Kíli! Help Bilbo judge how far the boat is from us.” His nephews scrambled to stand at Bilbo’s side, completely focused in their task. 

“Think you can throw a rope to it, Fee?” Kíli murmured after a while, his shoulder pressed against his brother’s. 

“Are you good at that?” Bilbo wondered. 

“Not bad,” the golden prince shrugged. The hobbit smiled, his hope restored, yet was bemused to see a look of surprise on Thorin’s face. Didn’t he know his nephew had that skill? 

“Bring him a rope with a hook,” Thorin commanded. 

Once the rope was fetched, silence fell across the company as Fíli concentrated on throwing the rope. He gave it all he had, yet became frustrated when the fifth attempt failed. 

“Damnit,” he murmured. 

“Steady, lad,” Bilbo encouraged, “you’ll get it.” 

“It’s not working. Kíli has better aim than I do.”

“But I don’t have the strength like you do with throwing,” Kíli retorted. 

Fíli shook his head and prepared the rope once more. 

“Try throwing it as far as you can,” Bilbo said, “then reel it back to where it needs to be.” 

“All right,” he said softly, doing just that. The rope landed far into the woods, and carefully he pulled it back until it trailed across the boat and snagged. The prince pulled harder this time, proving that the boat wasn’t going to budge unless more strength was applied. 

“Good lad!” Bilbo cheered, watching the boat intently as the rest of the company helped Fíli pull the rope. 

They tugged as hard as they could, grunting with the effort, until there was a great SNAP! and the boat came speeding towards them. 

“Steady it!” came Thorin’s booming voice, and they managed to do so before they lost it entirely. Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that their endeavor had paid off. “Fíli, Kíli, with me, and Bilbo.” 

“Hmm?” the hobbit wondered. 

“We shall cross first,” Thorin explained as the princes clambered in. “Easy, lads, remember the water is enchanted.” Bilbo graciously took the king’s offered hand. “You of all of us should take care with your feet bare. I would make you boots if−” 

“Nope!” Bilbo hopped in easily enough, hand still in Thorin’s to help him in return. “Our feet are just as good as boots or shoes, I assure you. I would only be a hindrance to you if I were to flop around with such big things on my feet.” 

“If you say so,” Thorin conceded. “Fíli, toss your rope to the shore and we’ll see if we can pull ourselves across.” 

“Although I do appreciate the sentiment,” Bilbo went on as they pulled. “I suppose it seems a bit strange to those who wear shoes all the time. I know the men who pass through our land always give us strange looks if they’ve seen us for the first time.” 

“Your feet aren’t the only strange thing about you, Mister Baggins,” Kíli quipped, but was soon chastised by Thorin. 

“No, it’s all right,” Bilbo chuckled. “Really, you lot are still strange enough to me.” Yet Kíli still looked dejected and continued to work with his head down. 

_Poor lad,_ Bilbo thought, _I must tell Thorin not to be too hard on him. He’s just a fauntling, after all, on a very taxing journey._  

They made it across well enough, sending the boat back for the other members of the company. All went well, with Bombur bringing up the rear, but when they were standing together once again, there came a sound of clattering of hooves behind them. It was all too sudden and close for comfort, but Thorin already had his bow drawn. 

“Behind me, Bilbo,” he murmured. 

“Wait, since when do you have a−” 

“Now!” 

With a huff he obeyed, clinging to the back of Thorin’s coat and peering out from behind him just in time to see a large deer charge at them! Half of the company managed to move out of the way, but the other half were knocked to the ground before the creature shot high above the water in the longest leap Bilbo had ever seen. It was short lived, however, as Thorin released his arrow and hit the deer in its left flank. It went hurtling down to the opposite bank, yet just as it hit the ground there was a heart wrenching shout from a voice that sent dread up Bilbo’s spine. 

“Bombur!” Bofur cried. “He’s fallen in!” 

Oh, how Bilbo never wanted to hear his friend’s voice in such agony ever again. Hastily they threw a rope into the water and soon, by the grace of Eru, a hand wrapped around it. Bilbo watched once more as they pulled, chewing his bottom lip and hoping the water wasn’t deadly. He didn’t know what to expect, but the look on Bofur’s face as they finally pulled out his unconscious brother broke his heart yet again. 

“No,” his friend whispered. The dwarf fell to his knees, running his hands over Bombur’s broad shoulders and patting his cheeks. “Bombur, please, _nadad!_ ” 

“He breathes!” Óin shouted, for he had been examining the ginger dwarf. “It is a deep slumber, though, and I fear it may not be easy to rouse him.” 

Try as they might, Óin had been correct in his prediction. 

“So, are we to carry him the whole way?” Glóin grumbled. 

“Do you suggest we leave him?” Thorin asked, eyebrows raised. He was met with silence from Glóin and the others who were complaining. Bilbo breathed in another shaky sigh, for it would have been unsettling if Thorin had chosen to leave Bombur behind. 

Bofur had already taken it upon himself to start hefting his brother up, relief clear on his once again jovial face. Bifur moved in to join him, as did Dwalin and Fíli. Dori cradled Bombur’s head, throwing the long ginger braids over his own shoulder and silently waiting for the others to move. Bilbo was touched by the scene, picking up a bag that had been dropped by Fíli. There was no way the dwarves could have carried the large chef with heavy packs on their backs, but Bilbo was happy to carry at least one if it meant their already meagre food stores were saved in the process. He watched as Thorin picked up two of his own, slinging them onto his back without even a wince before ordering the company forward. 

_He’s so strong,_ Bilbo mused, falling in step with the king. _If only I had muscles like that._  

As if in response to his thoughts, Thorin glanced back and offered him a wink, causing the hobbit to squeak in response (although he would tell you he most certainly did not!) It did his heart well, in any case, now that the worst seemed to be over for a time. 

He did not hold true to that sentiment, however, once the days grew long and the nights even longer until it was all the company could do to stay sane as they travelled down the endless path. The poor hobbit’s anxiety reared its head again, and his stomach never ceased its grumbling once their food dwindled to almost nothing. If only he knew how much farther they had to go. It would have done wonders for his mood… 

His thoughts faltered as he took sudden interest in a nearby tree. It was a wonder he noticed it since they were surrounded by nothing  _but_  trees, yet as the company paused to bicker amongst themselves, he wandered over to size it up. He used to be quite fond of climbing trees in his youth, and even in his somewhat weakened and malnourished state, he was confident he had the strength to climb to the top of this one. Maybe then he could put the company’s mind to rest about how much longer they had to travel through the forsaken forest.

“Kíli,” Bilbo murmured, turning to the lad. He had taken a seat nearby, watching Dwalin argue about something with Nori with a small frown on his face. At the sound of his name, though, he turned and looked up at the hobbit. “Give me a boost, will you?” 

“What? You mean up the tree?!” 

“I want to see if there is an actual end to this forest or if we’re meant to spend the rest of our days here.” That earned him a chuckle and the prince stood to look up at the tree as well. “Do you think you can get me up there?” 

“The first branch looks low enough that you could reach it while standing on my shoulders. Are you good at climbing trees?” 

“Good enough,” Bilbo shrugged. 

“Only Uncle will kill me if−” 

“Honestly, lad, Thorin can’t possibly ‘kill you’ over every little thing!” But the look on Kíli’s face once again said otherwise. “Fine,” Bilbo sighed, “I understand. I’ll take full blame if anything bad happens, okay? Now, let’s do this before he turns around and realizes I’m doing something stupid again.” 

Once Kíli kneeled, the hobbit dropped his gear and carefully placed his knees on either side of his head.

“Ready?” the prince asked. 

“Yes. Slowly, now...that’s it.” When he stood, it was then that Bilbo very slowly got to his own feet. Thankfully he was at the perfect height now where all he had to do was grip the branch and swing himself up. 

_Just like when you were a fauntling,_ he thought proudly, _you’ve still got it!_

He was about halfway up when he heard talking at the base of the tree. It seemed the company caught on to what he was doing, and there was excited chatter amongst other worried voices. 

“Bilbo,” he heard above the rest, the deep voice sending a thrill up his spine, “you had better be careful.” 

“I’m fine, you big worrywart,” he scoffed quietly, yet smiled at how Thorin sounded like a worried mother. 

He made quick work of the tree, and the next branch he reached for gave him a breath of fresh air and sunshine as he reached the very top. It blinded him at first after being in the dark forest for days, but once he was able to at least squint the sight he was met with took his breath away. There had to have been hundreds if not thousands of great purple butterflies nearly the size of Beorn’s bees fluttering around the tops of the trees, swooping down to pick at the little spiders scurrying across the leaves. He stood in awe for a time, watching them move about and appreciating the breeze on his hot face, but after a while (and after hearing the impatient shouting below him) he remembered why he was there. The feeling of momentary freedom died a quick death as he looked around and realized he couldn’t see an end to the trees. He even looked behind to where he presumed they came from and couldn’t even figure out where they had started from! 

“Oh no,” he moaned. A butterfly flew straight at his face, then, startling him and making him slip back inside the trees until he could find his grip again. This caused him to gain a few scratches along his arms and legs, and even more on the way back down since he lost his good cheer and couldn’t focus on dodging the particularly sharp ones. 

Once he reached the bottom, it was Fíli who caught him as he jumped out. 

“What did you see?” the lad wondered, carefully setting him down and handing him back his gear. 

“Nothing of worth,” he said miserably. “There were butterflies and a breeze, but I lost all care for nice things when I saw that the trees go on and on in every direction!” 

The company groaned at that, shaking their heads and turning away from him to continue complaining to each other. 

“That was good of you, Bilbo,” Fíli said, patting him on the shoulder before letting Thorin take his place in front of the hobbit. Before he could even meet his eyes, Bilbo felt a soft cloth being pressed to his cheek. 

“What−” 

“You’re bleeding,” came Thorin’s answer. 

“Oh, yes, I imagine I have many scratches after all of that. The way down wasn’t as easy as the way up.” He chuckled, but the king remained silent as he dabbed at Bilbo’s cheek. If the situation wasn’t so tense the hobbit would have tried cracking a joke at Thorin’s mother henning, but he didn’t wish to upset his lover even more. Plus, his actions were a soothing balm to Bilbo’s frayed nerves. 

“I wish you would have told me you were going to do that,” Thorin murmured. “That was dangerous.”

“I know, but I hoped to find an end to this awful place.” The hobbit frowned, unable to get the image of all of those trees out of his head. “It’s just...I’m worried. That thing with the deer and what happened with Bombur, not to mention that we’re being watched every single night and probably during the day. I don’t like this place, Thorin.” He shivered despite how hot he still was. “I’m scared that we’ll never find a way out.” 

The king’s blue eyes softened, and even though Bilbo was embarrassed about admitting all of his fears to the very dwarf who called him brave, there was a reason his heart belonged to him. Thorin placed a hand on the hobbit’s chest and leaned down to very tenderly kiss his lips. Bilbo gave a small whimper, both surprised and touched by such an action being taken in front of the entire company. The fact that they all grew quiet told him they were watching. 

_Well, I guess they all know now,_ he thought, leaning into Thorin. He didn’t mind, really, they were all family in one way or another. If these were to be their last days together anyway, why would he want to keep it secret from them? 

“I will keep you safe,” Thorin whispered against his lips. Bilbo looked back up to see the promise that shone in his eyes. He had no doubt that Thorin would do everything within his power for him, and it would have been silly to think otherwise. 

“I know,” he sighed, “and I’m sorry for being so doubtful.” 

“We all have doubts, I assure you.” 

“Even you?” He already knew the answer to that, but he needed to hear it. 

“Especially me.” Thorin kissed his forehead once before pulling away. “I don’t suppose Kíli was the one to aide you in your tree climbing?”

The change of subject surprised Bilbo so much that he immediately nodded, then felt bad for it after. 

“Now,” he warned, “don’t blame him. I asked very nicely and I’ve been known to be very persuasive.” Thorin cocked an eyebrow, making the hobbit blush. “Which I’m sure you’re very well aware of.” 

“I am indeed and since you’ve _persuaded_ me to do so, I will acquit him from his actions just this once.” 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said sincerely. Thorin nodded and took the hobbit’s hand, leading him forward and about to pass the company before a voice cried out, 

“Bombur’s awake!”

There was to be good news that day after all! After another check up courtesy of Óin, the chef seemed to be faring rather well despite the fact that he had been unconscious for weeks. The only damage they knew of was a rather significant amount of memory loss. 

“You mean you only remember Bilbo’s party?” Balin exclaimed. “After all we’ve been through?” And so it took some time to fill in the disbelieving Bombur about all of the adventures they had been on. 

“Blimey,” the dwarf said, “but I don’t remember any of it! I am rather hungry, though, is there any food?” 

After a great deal of groaning and harping on about how _hungry_ he was, the company soon elected to ignore him as they continued along the path. There was only so much whining they could take when their own bellies were empty. Luckily there seemed to be something else to take their minds off of their hunger as Bilbo spotted lights in the forest off to their left. He stopped very suddenly, causing Thorin to go on ahead of him a few steps and causing Kíli to smack into him from behind. 

“Oh, sorry...Mister Baggins, are you all right?” 

“Uhm, I don’t know,” Bilbo said slowly. 

Thorin came over, worry on his brow as he regarded Bilbo. 

“What is it?” the king asked. 

“Either I’m hallucinating or there are lights in the forest.” 

“No, laddie,” Balin said slowly, “I see them too.” 

After a few moments of staring and muttering to each other, every one in the company noticed the twinkling lights. It helped that the sun was starting to set, although that also spelled danger since they had yet to set up camp.

“It’s a sign,” Bombur stated, “they must have food!”

“It’s a trap,” Dwalin grumbled. They continued to bicker, and Bilbo found himself on the side of recklessly exploring off the path to see just what the lights were all about. It had to be a camp of some sort, and where there was a camp surely there had to be food. 

“We should try to see who it is,” he found himself saying. “Maybe they’ll take pity on us.” 

“We don’t need pity,” Thorin grumbled, but Bilbo didn’t hear much heart behind his words. Even their steadfast leader was giving into temptation. 

Silently they reached a consensus, and so they all crept forward until they came upon the lights. Bilbo had to hold back a gasp as he realized the source of the lights had been elves having a magnificent feast right in the middle of the forest! And oh, did the food smell wonderful! 

“Roasted meat,” Dori moaned, suddenly scrambling forward and into the small clearing. 

Immediately the lights went out and they couldn’t make sense of the fact that there was suddenly _nothing_ there! Bilbo knew he would have gone completely mad if there hadn’t been others there to confirm what he had seen. Yet there was not one scrap of food left, and they had to resign themselves to giving up hope of ever finding such a feast again. 

“We camp here for the night,” Thorin growled. “It will be dark soon and we’re lost as it is.” 

There was nothing for it but to obey their leader, so with heavy hearts and grumbling stomachs they set up camp once again. Quiet in his disappointment, Bilbo rolled out his bedroll next to Thorin and sat quietly next to the king. A silent rage practically radiated from the king, so Bilbo kept his thoughts to himself while looking down at his hands in his lap. 

“Forgive me,” Thorin eventually murmured. 

“Whatever for?” the hobbit wondered, looking up with concern. 

“I should have had more control, now we’re hungry _and_ lost in these damn woods.” 

“We’re all to blame, Thorin. We should have talked it through before charging.” When the king didn’t respond, Bilbo reached out to take his hand, but was interrupted by Dori exclaiming, 

“There they are again!”

They all jumped up, about to surge forward again, but Thorin made them stay. 

“It won’t do us any good to get lost again. Only one of us must go this time, so as to not frighten them.” 

“Who will it be, then?” Glóin wondered. “Who is the least intimidating out of all of us?” 

Bilbo was thinking about Ori, but he found that all of their gazes turned to him. 

“Me?” he squeaked. 

“He has a point,” Dwalin chuckled, “Mister Baggins canbe very intimidating when he wants to be.” 

“They’re elves,” Thorin sighed, “and they will not take kindly to any one of us storming their party again.” He spat out the word “party” as if it caused personal offense, then looked down at Bilbo with sadness in his eyes. 

“Not to worry,” Bilbo said quickly, unable to bear such a defeated look on Thorin’s face. “Your burglar will do his duty once again.” 

“Be careful,” the king said. Bilbo nodded and crept forward alone this time, cursing and muttering about how all he wanted was a nice piece of bread or a hot sweet potato. 

He was met with no luck this time either, for as he was about to put on his ring he suddenly stumbled over a tree root and fell face first into the area the elves occupied this time. Once again the lights vanished and he was met with complete darkness and no way of finding the company again. 

_Don’t panic, Bilbo,_ he thought, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but there was nothing for it. Thorin was right, they should have just ignored the lights altogether and stayed on the path! 

“Mister Baggins!” came a shout, then many others after it as the company tried to find him. He stood perfectly still, calling out to them in hopes that they were following his voice, but a frightening amount of time passed before he felt someone run into him. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed, hugging the hobbit close to him. 

“I’m okay,” he said, clinging to him, “but it’s completely hopeless.” 

“I know.” 

“And now it’s dark and we’re much too far away from our bedrolls.” 

“Ssh, I know.” 

“How are we to ever speak to them if they keep running away?! And I swear, I was trying to be polite but that confounded tree root−” 

Bilbo hadn’t realized how much he was babbling until Thorin brought them both to sit down on the hard forest floor and was attempting to soothe him while running fingers through his hair. Taking steady breaths, Bilbo nuzzled into the furs on his chest and allowed himself to be lulled. 

“Sorry, sometimes I’m not actually very brave.” 

“I will remind you a thousand times over that you are always brave to me.”

“Well,” Bilbo chuckled, sniffling a bit, “I’ll always be glad to hear it.” 

They sat that way for a while, and Bilbo would have fallen asleep cradled against Thorin’s chest if it had not been for Kíli’s voice crying out that the lights had reappeared. 

“Bother it all,” Bilbo grumbled, burying his face even more in the furs. 

“It sounds as if it is a bigger party this time,” Thorin observed. They listened and it seemed as if the mirthful noises increased. The rest of the company stumbled across them at this time and were wondering if they would once again approach them. 

“I just want to sleep,” the hobbit moaned, however Thorin shifted and he had no choice but to stand with him. 

“One last time,” the king sighed, “and all of us are to stay together.” He held Bilbo close to his side as he started forward, for which the hobbit was grateful, but as soon as they peeked out at the elves Bilbo knew this was a greater group to be reckoned with. 

The party was more formal, and at the head of the feast was what appeared to be a very regal elf, perhaps even a king. Bilbo could tell by the way the crown was weaved into his hair and the way he held himself. He looked to be right out of a picture book about elven kings. 

“Is that who I think it is?” he wondered, looking up at Thorin. He knew the answer the way the king’s face paled. “Oh. Well, that’s not very good, is it. I doubt he’ll offer us much help...Thorin, wait!” 

But Thorin had already stepped into the clearing, drawing his sword and looking very intent on using it. Bilbo watched in horror as every elf turned to him, including the king. The hobbit wasn’t sure if he could describe the look on the elf king’s face, only that it troubled him deeply to see _anyone_ look at Thorin in such a demeaning way. Then just like before, they had all vanished without a word, only with mocking laughter fading into the night. Bilbo sighed and stepped forward, stretching his arms out in front of him. 

“I don’t think drawing a sword on them really helped our case, Thorin…Thorin?” 

He waved his arms around while calling out his lover’s name, but he neither felt the king nor heard his answer. When he called out for the rest of the company, no answer came from them either, and it was then that cold fear washed over him until knew, this time, that he truly was alone. 

“But how?” he whispered, backing up against a tree and sliding down. His eyes were wide out of shock, but it meant nothing in the total darkness so he squeezed them shut and let out a small whimper. This was so very bad, and he worried over what had become of his companions. How could they all have just disappeared like that? Did the elves cast a spell on them, or was the forest playing tricks with their minds? 

Somehow through all his misery Bilbo found himself dozing, wishing for the comfort of being in Thorin’s arms again yet unable to help his drowsiness. The adrenaline was wearing off until all that was left was a feeling of exhaustion seeping into every bone and muscle of his body. The lack of food in his system certainly didn’t help, and he was just about to nod off when something sticky brushed against his left forearm. He would have ignored it if the sensation hadn’t spread down to his calves, wrapping around his feet and making its way back his right side. 

Bilbo jumped up, suddenly very much awake, and promptly fell over again. 

“Oi!” he shouted. 

There was a sharp chittering coming from behind him, and he turned in time to make out the profile of a great, hairy _thing_  looming over him. Bilbo was deeply disturbed to be able to count just how many eyes it had that shone in the darkness before it jumped out at him. With a shout, the hobbit acted on instinct and punched it right in those terrifying eyes. He was rewarded with a revolting squelch and a hiss from the angry beast then, remembering his sword, he quickly cut away at whatever it was that bound his legs together and scrambled back to his feet. He lashed out at it before it could hurry away, anger driving him to stab it anywhere he could. The thing was hairy, and as Bilbo put an end to its life, he pieced together the evidence until one word whispered in the back of his mind. 

_Spider._  

There were spiders in these woods! Giant, vicious, and very much unlike the smaller ones Bilbo had seen scuttling across the treetops. Although, come to think of it, those could have been baby spiders! 

“Something I would rather not think about,” he muttered, pulling away from the dead spider and regarding his trustworthy sword. Perhaps he was delusional, but the amount of love and respect he felt for his blade in that moment made him realize that it finally deserved a name of its own. “ _Sting,_ ” he whispered, “for you can be as surprising and fierce as a bee or spider sting. I don’t think anyone or anything has ever expected me to have a companion such as you.” 

He stood there for a time, cleaning off Sting and placing it back in its sheath before realizing just what it meant to for the company to share these woods with giant spiders. 

_Maybe that’s why they all disappeared,_ he thought with a shiver. Despite his fears, his bravery had been coaxed out of hiding by the simple act of killing such a beast by himself, so he vowed to find the company once he could actually see again. If the spiders managed to trap them, he knew time was very precious. 

Bilbo slipped on his ring and waited impatiently for the first glimpse of morning light, allowing himself a little bit of sleep in order to keep his strength up, but in what seemed like no time at all he began to hear shouts that roused him out of his stupor. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep, but there was indeed a single ray of light insisting on shining through the trees and he was up on his feet as fast as he could manage. 

Through the trees he crept, his ring still on as he followed the sounds of the struggling company. He wasn’t sure what he would find, if the sight would be a pretty one or not, but he was their only hope at the moment. 

“We’ll have a nice meal today, lads!” 

Bilbo froze at the voice, taken back to the time they had all been captured by those horrible trolls. 

“Of course they can talk,” he muttered, peeking through the trees. “Why are such creatures given voices? It’s bad enough that they exist!” 

“Oi, that one’s squirming!” 

“Nip it on the nose, make it stop!”

The painful shout from one of the dwarves set Bilbo into action. From what he could see, it looked as though the entire company lay on the forest floor wrapped up in spider web. They looked like massive cocoons, but if the hobbit could somehow scare the spiders off he knew he would be able to free them.

“Think, Baggins,” he breathed, looking down. 

He couldn’t charge them with Sting even with his ring on. Perhaps... _yes!_ He bent to pick up a rock, smiled, then threw it at the nearest spider. He didn’t allow for much time to pass before hurrying off to a different spot, throwing another stone from there and hitting one in the face. The spiders shrieked and looked around, calling out for the attacker to show himself, but still Bilbo carried on. 

“You won’t catch me,” he said aloud in a sing-song voice, mocking and making the creatures even angrier. “Wee little thing that I am with little tiny rocks, why, you would think there were more of me!” This had the desired effect of making the spiders scatter and search for him, and he only had to dodge one before they all cleared off. He took off his ring and wasted no time in cutting at the first dwarf-shaped cocoon he came across, careful despite his desperation to free them all. “Fíli,” he breathed, once he recognized the dwarf’s nose. Soon he was able to cut away enough of the web so that Fíli could open his eyes and take in his surroundings. 

“Mister Bilbo?” he asked feebly, voice no louder than a faint mewl. 

“You’re going to be okay, my lad,” Bilbo answered. “You’re still weak from the venom, but it will wear off soon.” He hoped so, anyway. As he continued to help free the prince, Bilbo could see how nauseous he felt just by the look on his face.  

“We were attacked by giant spiders,” Fíli said slowly, concentrating hard as he desperately tried to wipe the web out of his eyes. 

“That’s right. I managed to scare them away, but we must be quick if we wish to escape.” 

“Bilbo, I don’t think I can move without being sick.”

“You must, Fíli." The hobbit shook his head. "I won’t see you or your brother get eaten by giant spiders.” At the mention of his brother, just as Bilbo thought it would do, Fíli perked up. 

“Kíli…is he all right?” 

“He will be if we can manage to free him from this mess.” This seemed to give Fíli some momentum. Even if he could only manage to wiggle around in attempt to coax some life back into his limbs, his intent was clear; get to his brother by any means possible. “Almost there, lad,” Bilbo said softly, “I just need to get your legs free…there!” 

“Do you know where he is?” Fíli asked. Already he was jumping up and down, face still contorted into an ill expression as he clutched his stomach, but he was eager. 

“I’m afraid I don’t. You all look the same, except I imagine the biggest cocoon will be Bombur− oomph!” Bilbo was suddenly engulfed in a hug of sticky spiderweb and tangled, golden hair, but before he could speak Fíli was already off to help free the others with a small knife he had produced from his cloak. 

Bilbo continued to work hard at freeing the others since some were too sick to even lift their weapons. They had a long night according to what Bofur was telling Bilbo, that one by one they had been caught soon after the elves disappeared and were lying there with the venom spreading throughout their already compromised systems. Quite frankly, Bilbo was surprised most even lived through the night, but he kept that to himself. 

“Hurry, lads,” Balin called out, “before those awful brutes come back!” 

When it looked as though all of them had been freed, Bilbo stayed behind the dwarves just to keep an eye out for any approaching spiders. He had to slash out at a few of them, and the stronger members of the company killed a few in their hurry to get away, but it seemed Bilbo’s earlier actions angered them enough so that they spread around without thinking. 

They ran until they couldn’t anymore, crashing through trees and giving up hope of finding the path again as long as they were away from those wretched things. It was only until they stopped running to finally catch their breaths that Dwalin spoke the words that made Bilbo’s heart freeze. 

“Where’s Thorin?” 

A silence fell over the company, then all at once they began to argue. 

“I thought he was right behind us!" 

“You were with him, weren’t you Glóin?”

“Thorin! _Thorin!_ ” 

“Don’t shout, you idiot, do you _want_ the spiders to come back?!” 

There was a ringing in Bilbo’s ears as he tried many times to count the heads of the company, but each time the numbers just didn’t make any sense. Each time his chest hurt more and more with the realization that Thorin, their leader and his lover, was not with them. 

“No,” he breathed, counting once again and only coming up with twelve. “This can’t be.” 

“Did any of you cut him loose?” Fíli asked, but was met with mumbles and shaking heads. Bilbo watched as the prince grew pale and turned to his brother, who looked even more sickly and slightly green. In fact, none of the dwarves seemed right. Half were sitting on the ground, slumped over and clutching their heads or stomachs (Ori and Bombur were currently emptying whatever was left in their stomachs) while others seemed ready to nod off at any moment, but still Bilbo blurted out what he knew was impossible, 

“We have to go back!” 

They looked at him, some with sympathy and others as if he had gone mad. 

“That’s suicide, that is,” Óin grumbled. “And how are we to find him without those spiders coming after us again?” 

“He’s right,” Balin said, eyes nearly drooping shut. “He would…want us to continue on.” He gave a great yawn, one that passed around the company and even to Bilbo. 

“He’ll turn up, laddie.” Bilbo turned to find Bofur by his side. “He always does.”

“But what if he’s in trouble?” 

“He still has his weapons.” Bofur sat down and Bilbo joined him, adrenaline starting to fail even though his mind was racing.

_Don’t you cry, Bilbo Baggins,_ he thought to himself, even as tears prickled his eyes.  _Thorin_ _needs you to be brave._ Even as his body betrayed him, sinking all the way to the ground next to a snoring Bofur while his heart _ached_ in his chest, his mind spoke clear through the haze. He knew he had to stay with the company. They all needed each other, especially now, and it wouldn’t do any of them any good to separate. 

As Bilbo succumbed to sleep, a few tears escaping down his cheeks, he sent a silent prayer up to whoever would deign to listen− Eru, Yavanna, even Mahal, that Thorin wasn’t met with any danger wherever he may be.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“Get up! Now!”

Bilbo woke to the company shuffling to their feet, taking no time at all to slip on his ring as he watched a group of elves poke and prod at them. He couldn’t make sense of it at first, wondering why on earth they were bounding the dwarves and making them march in a single line. Then he remembered the night before and the many elven parties they had interrupted. 

_Well, maybe they’ll feed us at least,_ Bilbo thought glumly, following behind the compliant company unseen and unheard. Wherever they were being led off to, he had the horrible feeling that it would only succeed in taking them further away from Thorin. He couldn’t stand it, leaving the king behind, and even though it was the rational thing to do it railed against every part of him. His body went forward, yet everything else was screaming out at him to go back, that Thorin needed him, that Thorin could be in danger or _worse_ he could be dying with no one there to comfort him−

“Stop it,” he hissed. This caused an elf to look over to where he walked, her green eyes sharp as she put a hand to the sword at her waist. Bilbo was quiet after that, but no less broody as they were led across a bridge and up to a giant iron gate. He thought it best to follow them all the way in to at least see where they would be kept. There was no doubt in his mind that they were to be kept prisoners in this elven kingdom, and that the elven king from the night before probably had something to do with it.

Each company member was taken a separate cell, and it was all Bilbo could do to remember twelve different parts of the dungeons. They were very spread out and in the end he vaguely knew of a couple doors he could go back to and find at least a few of them. He was so very tired and depressed by this point, however, that it was all he could do to find a quiet corner to curl up and pout in.

_This is so very grim,_ he thought, dragging the back of his sleeve across his sniffling nose. _I don’t feel very brave at all without Thorin to tell me otherwise._

He finally broke down and wept as quietly as he could, feeling very much lost without his dwarves to cheer him and without Thorin promising him all would be well. Even if it wouldn’t, those words from the king he trusted with his life had the power to soothe him during his most troubled times. What he would give to at least know he was safe, or even locked up with the rest of the company! Bilbo knew there was little chance of that, but if he were to aide his dwarves in any way he knew he had to cling to some glimmer of hope to see him through. Now, though...well, now he allowed himself to cry when no one could see him. 

Eventually he nodded off, his tears making his eyes heavy and his brain foggy, and he slept a good long while there in that tiny space. The rest did him some good even if it was on a hard floor, but when he woke next his mind was clearer with only one thing on it− he simply _must_ find some food! 

He wandered the corridors, following his trustworthy nose to the closest source of food he could find. Thankfully there was a feast going on in one of the smaller dining halls and so he tread silently behind one of the elves carrying a small roasted pig on a platter. As he considered the table, he was rather surprised at the small portion sizes compared to the ones from the grand feast the night before, but food was food and he wasted no time in stealing scraps when the elves weren’t looking.

He developed a sneaky method of picking a piece of food from the corner of a plate, ducking under the table to enjoy his treasure, and going back up again until he was finally happy and full enough to appreciate the fogginess in his head lifting at last. He hadn’t realized just how bad he felt until proper nutrition was refueling his body once more, although he was slightly surprised to find that he didn’t need to eat as much as he would have liked. Perhaps he was just used the scarcity of food that came with life on the road, but he was sure his new eating habits would positively scandalize the other hobbits! 

Bilbo chuckled to himself at the thought, then just as quickly put a hand over his mouth and ducked out from the table once more to grab a small blackberry tart before leaving the hall behind. Unfortunately, this would be his last time to smile in the days to come, or to feel anything at all other than anxiety coiled low and ready to fight or flee at the next threat. Of course the food was good− he managed at least three small meals a day− but almost two weeks had passed before he could even remember how to get around the kingdom without getting lost completely. One time he had almost accidentally left the place altogether. That had certainly frightened him, and apart from his first night there his sleep was constantly disturbed by dreams and heavy footsteps of passing guards. 

This time, where his dreams in the past consisted of his inability to save Thorin or the company, now he dreamt of a loneliness he had never experienced before. He went unseen and unheard while he wore his ring in reality, and so in his dreams when he tried to call out to the misty figures of the dwarves in front of him, they failed to respond. They looked at him without seeing him, looked _through_ him as if he wasn’t there at all, and not one heard his cries. Not even Thorin. 

He woke every time in a cold sweat, shivering and tugging his tattered coat tighter around his body. There was a sneaking suspicion in his mind that the strange grey world of the ring he wore was starting to take its toll on him. Just as soon as he would have the thought, though, something else would distract him from it and insist that he keep it on. After all, it was the only reason he could sneak around unseen, and his dwarves needed him to come up with a plan eventually, right?

_But I still don’t know how long I can keep this up...oh, drat!_ He jumped, quickly looking over his shoulder when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.  _And that happens every time,_ he thought with a sigh, realizing it had only been his shadow. He gritted his teeth when his ring finger twitched, as if a bolt of energy suddenly surged through it, and he quieted his thoughts for the rest of that night. After that, he was careful to push all other disturbing thoughts about his ring and his dreams to the back of his mind, and instead focused on trying to find the company once more. 

Once Bilbo was certain he knew how to find his way to and from certain places now, he wandered down a path he vaguely remembered leading to the dungeons, but one particular noise made him backtrack to what appeared to be the throne room. Upon looking back into the large room his heart stopped and his limbs suddenly felt numb as he processed what was before him, and he almost didn’t make it into the room before a guard closed the doors. The noise that caught his attention had been a growl, but not just any growl; it was _Thorin’s_ deep throated, animalistic voice that travelled throughout the room and made the hair on the back of Bilbo’s neck stand. It was a sound like that of a trapped animal, and the hobbit didn’t like it coming out of his lover at all. He could have fainted from the relief that overcame him upon seeing the king alive, but he also knew that Thorin was most unhappy and angry at being held captive by _elves_ of all races.

As Bilbo stood off to the side, the scene in front of him appeared to be ritual by the way they propped Thorin up in front of the elven king with his arms shackled behind him. Almost immediately Bilbo didn’t like this elf, not one bit. He regarded Thorin with a look of boredom, as if his time was being wasted once again, before sighing and addressing him. 

“Thorin, how many times must we go through this before you answer my questions?”

“I have answered them.” 

“ _No_ you haven’t! You told me that your company entered my woods and stormed my parties because they were hungry, yet you fail to answer as to what business you have in my kingdom.”

“You do not own the Greenwood,” Thorin spat, but soon after bowed his head as if he were ashamed of his outburst. The elven king arched an eyebrow at this, then slowly stood from his throne and walked down to Thorin. Bilbo resisted the urge to grab for his blade as the elf used his height to loom over the bound dwarf.

_He certainly has poor manners for a king,_ Bilbo thought. 

“A king without a crown,” the elf said, “or even a kingdom. Where have you been all this time in your exile? I was led to believe your people had died out, having nowhere to go and no one to shelter you. Your father−” 

“Do not speak of my father,” Thorin growled. 

“I heard they found his body in Dol Guldur,” the king went on, a frown on his face. Thorin’s eyes widened, but just as quickly went back to a hard glare. 

“You lie.”

“I assure you, I have no reason to. So it really just has been you all this time leading the exiles of Erebor around. You look as if you have travelled far, perhaps over the Misty Mountains from a land in the west. Are you not weary?” 

Bilbo gritted his teeth. Thorin looked as though he was beginning to lose his patience, and that could have indicated just how many times he had been put through the elf king’s interrogations. He was not a dwarf so easily broken, yet anyone would affected by such pressure. Fortunately, the scene was interrupted by a younger elf who bore a certain likeness to the king and his hurried claims of spiders being spotted near the gates of the kingdom. They exchanged a few words in their own tongue before the king made a motion with his hand to one of guards and left with the young elf. Thorin growled again, more quietly this time, but allowed the guard to lead him off.

Now was Bilbo’s chance to see where they were keeping him, and he wasted no time in hurrying after them. It took quite a while and many flights of stairs going down until they finally reached a rather obscure part of the dungeons. Bilbo could hear nothing but the soft dripping of water and the pattering of their footsteps as they walked along stone. It was cold too, and Bilbo feared for the health of Thorin and the other dwarves. Even if they were dwarves, they shouldn’t be kept in cramped, damp places. It would be enough to make  _anyone_ depressed!

With a heavy heart, Bilbo watched as the cell door closed behind Thorin and the key slide in and out of the lock. It was only until the guard left completely that the king’s shoulders slumped and he took a seat on the cold ground rather than on the cot that was provided. His long, dark locks had fallen forward and from what Bilbo could see of his face he didn’t appear to be the stoic and mighty king the hobbit had been accustomed to. Here was not a stubborn dwarf, rather a defeated one who looked as if he’d been given a sound thrashing. Bilbo felt a lump in his throat and he blinked back tears. He knew he never wanted to see Thorin in such a way again, but that it was up to him to restore hope if he was ever to be made whole again. 

He crept up to the bars, wrapping nimble fingers around the cold steel and quietly clearing his throat. 

“Thorin,” he whispered. The dwarf grunted and looked up, surprising Bilbo. He hadn’t expected to be heard at first. “It’s me…your burglar.” 

“Bilbo.” The hobbit smiled at his name, watching Thorin crawl towards the bars. He reached out to touch him without thinking and made contact with the furs still on the king’s chest. “Is that your hand?” Thorin rumbled. 

“Y-yes.” The king let out a strangled noise, and the shackles around his wrists rattled as if he were pulling on them. “Don’t hurt yourself, it’s okay.” 

“ _How?_ ” 

“Too long of a story to tell here, I’m afraid, but I plan to use it to our advantage.” 

“Do you have a plan?”

“Not yet. I’m sorry, but I’m trying.” 

From what he could see, Thorin’s eyes softened and he nodded. 

“Of course you are.” 

“I arrived with the rest of the company a few days ago, and only now have I managed to find you. It will take me longer still to memorize the schedule the guards keep, where they will be at any certain time and I just…” Bilbo closed his eyes, fighting back the same panic that threatened to overcome him whenever he was reminded that he was their only hope. 

The elveshe was up against were intelligent and cunning. Trolls, orcs, goblins, and even giant spiders were nothing compared to them! Perhaps they would be fond of riddles like that creature in the goblin caves had been, but even if they were to indulge Bilbo in such a game he had no doubt that they would be the ones to come out victorious.

“Bilbo?” Thorin whispered. “Are you well?” 

The hobbit looked back up at Thorin, so happy and relieved that he was _alive_ , but now he had to keep it that way. He was fairly certain they wouldn’t execute him (although he was more familiar with the elves of Rivendell than those of the wood) yet there was no doubt in his mind that the dwarf king would Fade if his attempt to regain Erebor was halted indefinitely by elves.

_Elves that once refused to help him save Erebor in the first place_ , Bilbo thought. 

“I suppose so,” he sighed, “all things considering.”

“You have managed to find food, of course, but enough of it?” 

“I, well…”

Thorin pulled away, much to Bilbo’s disappointment, but soon returned nudging half of a loaf of bread through the bars. 

“The remains of my lunch,” Thorin explained. 

“I couldn’t−” 

“They keep me well fed, I will say that much for them, but now you need to eat. I promised you, Bilbo.” The hobbit could still see the conviction in his lover’s eyes. 

“Thank you,” he sighed, tearing off pieces and reveling in how it melted in his mouth. 

“I’ll save more for you with each meal I receive,” the king went on. “You will need strength more than I to keep yourself hidden so well. Bilbo, you _must_ not be seen.”

“I haven’t made myself visible since I came here.” He didn’t mention the toll it took on his body to stay that way for more than a few hours, or that it was starting to affect his mind in questionable ways. Thorin had his own burdens. “I promise, as soon as I finish this I plan on finding the others. It just took me some time to figure out this place.”

“Make haste, my hobbit. Again I must ask too much of you, but we have already wasted too much time in here.”

“Okay,” Bilbo said softly, swallowing hard as he finished the bread. He reached through the bars once more, lightly caressing Thorin’s cheek until the king relaxed into the palm of his hand with a sigh. The scratch of his beard was a soothing reminder that he was really there and safe for the time being. “I promise, Thorin.” 

As much as he wanted to stay, the hobbit knew he had to make haste if he wanted to find at least one other dwarf before he grew too weary. With a gentle good-bye and a promise to return as soon as he could, Bilbo decided that going back up the stairs so he could reorient himself would be best. He was able to remember one of the directions the dwarves had been taken in, and so went back down those flights of stairs until he thankfully found a similar dungeon set-up like the one he had just seen.

It took a while before he found one that was occupied, and was actually surprised and relievedto see that not one but two dwarves were placed side by side in separate cells. It would at least make finding the rest somewhat easier if they were all like that. In one he could make out the form of a sleeping Balin, but the faint light from the candles glinted off of something pacing back and forth in the next one. 

“Fíli,” he realized. 

“Bilbo?!” 

“Ssh!” The prince rushed to the bars, reaching through and grabbing at the air beside Bilbo. “I’m afraid I can’t make myself visible, lad. I’m your only way out unless the elves catch me.” 

“Have you seen the others? Is Kíli here?” Fíli’s eyes grew wide. “Is he okay? He had a bad reaction to the venom.” 

“Fíli, we all did." 

“But he was really sick!” 

“My lad,” Bilbo whispered harshly, “I really must ask you to keep your voice down.” 

“Sorry.” The prince looked down, brow furrowed and shoulders hunched. 

“Please don’t worry.” Bilbo reached through the bars and took his hand, squeezing gently. “I’ve only managed to talk with Thorin, but as soon as I find Kili I promise I will tell you how he fares.” 

Fíli nodded and squeezed back, his expression composed once more even if a trace of worry was still on his brow. 

“Thank you.” 

Fíli had nearly broken Bilbo’s heart, but he should have known that the prince had good instincts when it came to his brother. When the hobbit eventually found Kíli (after managing to find some of the other dwarves as well) he realized Fíli’s fears were not unfounded. Even with his ring on, Bilbo could still see that the poor lad had a sickly hue similar to when he was first poisoned by the spiders, and at first Bilbo feared the worst when he came upon him lying perfectly still in his cot. At the sound of his name, the younger prince sat up with a start, looking very much like Fíli did when he heard but could not see Bilbo. Once the hobbit explained that it was indeed him, however, a familiar grin broke across Kíli’s face and he tried to get as close to him as the bars would allow.

“I knew you would help us, Mister Baggins.” His voice was a croak, no doubt dehydrated, and he conceded to letting Bilbo feel his forehead. 

“How do you feel?”

“Better now. The elves gave me some medicine for the worst of it.” He pouted. “But they took my bow.”

“I think I know where they have your weapons stored.”

“Really?” the prince perked up.

“Don’t get too excited, I have to figure out if I even have time to grab them all before setting you lot free.”

“If you do, though−” 

“Yours will be the first one I get,” Bilbo sighed, shaking his head. 

“Thanks. Have you seen Fíli yet?”

“I have. He’s worried about you, but I guess I have a good report to give him when I see him next. Unless you’re hiding something?” The prince winced. “Kíli?” 

“It’s nothing, just...stomach pains. Mostly at night. The spider venom made me, you know, vomit a lot, and the medicine helped but I don’t feel like eating.” 

“Have you eaten at all?" 

“Bread, mostly. It’s the only thing that doesn’t make me sick, but I still can’t eat much of it.”

“Kíli, we’ve been in that forest for weeks without food,” Bilbo said, “and now you’ve been in this dreary place for two weeks without any healthy sunlight. You need to try and eat something substantial that will give you your strength back or tell the elves your problem.” 

“I’m already their prisoner,” the lad frowned, “I don’t need them thinking I’m weak.”

“Oh, you’re just as stubborn as your uncle! You _are_ weak right now and if you want to get out of here, you need to let them help you first.” Bilbo frowned when the lad winced. He didn’t intend to reprimand him, but perhaps his words came out too harsh. Reaching through the bars, he gently squeezed Kíli’s hand. “I’m sorry, I’m only worried about you. Can you promise me you’ll try to eat?”

“I’ll try,” he answered softly, “but...if I can’t, I’ll tell the elves.” He didn’t look happy about this, but Bilbo’s heart felt a good deal lighter.

“Thank you.”

After a few more words passed between them, Bilbo left in search of the others. Seeing that Kíli was struggling gave him extra incentive to start putting a plan together, but first he really needed to make sure everyone was accounted for. It took him a few more days to accomplish this, since every day he went to go see Thorin (sometimes twice a day) and would fall asleep outside of his cell after throwing ideas back and forth for hours. He took messages back and forth from Thorin to the others, especially Balin, Dwalin, and the princes, but he was starting to grow worried over not being able to find Nori and Bifur. Bofur asked after his cousin every time Bilbo came around, each time frowning before forcing a smile back on his face, and Ori was particularly worried about his brother.

The day eventually came where Bilbo wandered down a particular stairway he was sure he’d neglected before, and _finally_ came across the last two dwarves. He was so relieved, immediately going up to Bifur and whispering to him. Once the dwarf got over the shock of Bilbo’s disembodied voice, he listened eagerly and was still very expressive with his movements and garbled Khuzdul.

“He says he noticed the sound of running water,” Nori’s voice sounded from where he remained in the shadows. Bilbo huffed, wondering why he couldn’t have brought himself forth before, but the translation was still helpful.

“As did I,” he said, still having a difficult time figuring out what to make of it. Bifur nodded and fell silent, frowning as he muttered and wandered back to his cot. “Uhm…”

“That’s all you’ll get out of him for now, I’m afraid,” Nori went on. “He hasn’t been doing well with his memory locked up in here.”

“That’s a shame,” Bilbo sighed, walking over to Nori’s cell. “I don’t suppose you know what to make of the water?” 

“I’m not the one with the freedom to walk around,” the dwarf snorted. He walked forward, leaning against the bars and looking right at Bilbo. Startled, the hobbit took a step back.

“How did you do that?” he wondered. “No one else is able to look me in the eye.”

“Well, I still can’t see you. I just have good perception.” He smirked, and Bilbo wasn’t sure if he was poking fun or not, but then he went on. “Have you found my brothers?”

“Yes. I’ve found everyone, actually, it just took me longer with you two.”

“And?”

“A-and...well, they’re fine. Tired, grumpy, but well fed. Ori is a bit down since they took his sketch book−” 

“Those bastards,” he spat.

“Yes, well, I know where they have it along with your weapons, so I promised him I’d steal it back before getting everyone out.”

“Good. It’s all he has some days.” Nori’s gaze faltered, frowning down at his feet before looking back up. “And you, burglar. You’ve been able to walk around unseen, yet I know that sound. Your voice is off, weak and paranoid. I’ve been around too many dwarves with dragon sickness to miss the symptoms.”

“Dragon sickness?”

“A sickness of the mind caused by gold lust, mainly, when all of your thoughts are consumed by gold and treasure. It’s an illness that has been in Thorin’s family line for centuries, curiously enough, and his own grandfather had it. Some even say that dragons can smell when a mind has been overcome with the sickness.”

“So you’re saying his grandfather caused Smaug to come to the mountain?” This angered Bilbo, for some reason, feeling an urge to protect Thorin’s relative.

“No,” the dwarf huffed. “Of course his grandfather didn’t cause Smaug to come, but his  _sickness_ did. Take your trinket off, burglar, and you’ll be able to hold a decent conversation.”

“But the elves−”

“Are not going to patrol this corridor for another fifteen minutes. Trust me, all I’ve done since I’ve been in here is watch them come and go. You should have a better sense of their patrol too, but I suppose you can’t think rationally enough.” Nori shook his head and sighed. “Take it off, close your eyes, and relax your mind for a moment.”

“I’ve tried,” he admitted, not really sure how they even got to this topic. He wasn’t going to, but the conviction in Nori’s eyes made a shiver course through him.

“Well, try harder,” he snapped, startling Bilbo. “We need you.” 

Without a thought, he obeyed, quickly taking off the gold band and shoving it in his pocket. He didn’t feel anything at first, but slowly a weight lifted from him and he felt his sharp mind returning to him. He had to admit, it was also nice to see in color again.

“How do you feel?”

“Hmm.” He shook his head, blinking rapidly. “Well, better.”

“That’s quite a burden you carry with you.”

“You were affected by it before,” the hobbit pointed out softly.

“Yes, and I’ll have you know that dragon sickness does _not_ run in my direct family line. That’s what makes me a damn good thief,” he shrugged, “but what you have there is something not to be fooled with. The effects are similar to what dragon sickness can do, but I think it has more to do with the type of magic that possesses it. The few magical items I’ve come across in my journeys have taught me enough about their effects, that you should respect them and for _Mahal’s_ sake avoid wearing them for long periods of time. I don’t like them. Not one bit, and I won’t ever be able to apologize enough for what I did to you that night, but I know that wasn’t me.” 

“I don’t believe it was you,” Bilbo said, remembering his conversation with Ori. “No...I can see what you mean, but now I must work extra hard to not be seen. How will I sleep?” Tears filled his eyes, and he tried to blink them back only to have them escape down his cheeks. “Sorry−”

“Don’t apologize. We’re depending on you to break us out of an elvish prison in the middle of Mirkwood. Don’t ever feel the need to say you’re sorry. Here.” Nori handed him what at least had the shape and texture of a handkerchief through the bars, and Bilbo accepted it with a watery chuckle.

“Thank you.”

“Promise me you’ll only wear it when necessary.” It was more of a demand than a question, although Bilbo was better off for it.

“I promise.”

After that he was able to clearly consider his options, think back on everything he heard, saw, even  _smelled_ since he’d been in the kingdom. It was only until he crept back up the staircase after talking to Nori that he heard it again. The sound of water faintly trickling down the walls and passing overhead…

Water. The _water!_ That was it!

 

  
\- - - - - - - - - -

 

In retrospect, he was rather embarrassed with how long it took him to realize there had been an escape plan all around him. Right under his feet and at times above his head, ran the river that would aide in the company’s escape!

After that realization, everything else fell into place. He managed to get some of the elven guards drunk enough so that they fell asleep, allowing him to steal a set of keys to the cells (luckily, one key seemed to fit all) as well as to the room that held their weapons. He grabbed as many knives and swords as he could, especially the smaller ones, and remembered Kíli’s bow, Orcrist, and Ori’s book before slipping on his ring and hurrying down to Thorin’s cell.

“Thorin!”

The king looked up at Bilbo’s voice, expression of worry quickly clearing as the hobbit unlocked and opened the heavy door.

“How−” 

“I remembered passing a room that smelled strongly of river water,” he explained quickly, taking off his ring and slipping behind Thorin to work on his shackles. “Some of the elves talked about sending out barrels as well. It didn’t process at the time, mainly because I...oh!” When he finished, Thorin had turned and cupped his cheeks with two large hands, kissing him deeply before stepping back with a nod.

“Forgive me, but I’ve been waiting to do that for some time.”

“Okay, uhm, this way then,” Bilbo blushed, taking his hand and leading him off. “We can get to some of the others down here− I found passageways connecting the dungeons after all− but I’ll have to lead you to the barrel room before going to get the rest. They’ve separated you quite well, it’s rather annoying…oh, here.” He passed Orcrist back to Thorin, happy to be rid of its persistent banging against his leg.

“Fíli and Kíli?”

“Fíli is next, but Kíli is in a different part. You’ll see, though. Ah, right here. Come along, we really don’t have much time.”

Eventually, since he committed to memory the many passageways he found once out of the haze of his ring, he formed the small group of dwarves together and led them to the barrel room. He locked the room behind him for good measure, and did the same for the next group of dwarves. Admittedly it would have been easier if there weren’t so damn many of them, but eventually he managed to get all thirteen members of the company to the room without one elf seeing them. 

“In you go, my lad,” he whispered to Kíli, finally closing the door behind them.

“Aren’t we lucky to have you, Mister Baggins!” the lad chuckled. “I can’t believe you managed...” When Kíli didn’t finish his thought, Bilbo looked over with curiosity only to see the younger prince had thrown his arms around his brother in a tight hug. The hobbit winced, but Fíli didn’t seem to care.

“Kee,” the older prince sighed, stroking and kissing his hair. “How do you feel?”

“Fine," Kíli mumbled. "Better now that you're here."

"Do you still feel sick? Did you eat at all?" 

"Yes." Kíli looked up at his brother and chuckled. "Bilbo was good about getting me to eat." 

The hobbit nodded to Fíli’s quiet "thank you" and watched as Thorin made his way over. The king looked utterly relieved to see his nephews, placing his hands on each of their shoulders. 

“Right,” Bilbo said, clearing his throat and willing his emotions back. “Into the barrels, then.” They all looked at him as if he’d gone mad, then immediately started to protest once they realized he was serious. “Oi!” he said sharply. “Please, if anyone has a better plan I’d love to hear it, but right now this is our only chance!”

“Bilbo,” Ori said nervously, “are you sure we’ll even survive it?”

“We’ll drown, I’m sure of it,” Dori mumbled.

It took some more convincing, and a hard glare from Thorin, before the company finally relented. Bofur was the only one who volunteered to go first, and Bilbo made sure he was somewhat comfortable before fitting the top over him and pushing the barrel into the rushing water below. Once he was out, the hobbit turned back to the others and was surprised to find them completely silent as they regarded the fate of their company member.

“Well,” he shrugged, “who’s next?”

He made quick work of them all despite their hesitation, and was left with Kíli again once they were all out.

“What will you do, Mister Baggins?” the prince wondered quietly.

“Grab onto your barrel, I suppose. Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

But he still looked rather sickly, at least to Bilbo. 

“The tops of the barrels are very secure, Kíli,” he sighed. “Trust me, you didn’t help put them on so you don’t know, but I very much doubt even with the fast current that any of them are in danger of drowning. I wouldn’t do that to you, I...love you very much. All of you.” He felt the lump returning to his throat and cursed himself, but Kíli chose to climb into his barrel at that moment.

“I know you do,” he said, looking up at him with his trusting brown eyes. Bilbo smiled sadly, nodding once before securing the top and hanging on tight as he pushed the barrel out. 

They hit the water with a hard smack and the journey was, well, _wet_ and terrifying, although Bilbo was sure he blacked out from fear early on. From what he remembered, the way the barrel rolled and jumped in the rapids, then bumped against large rocks without a care for its passengers made him wish he had thought of a different plan altogether. This went on for ages until he feared they would never hit dry land, yet by some miracle they all managed to come together along the same shore once the waters calmed down.

He rolled Kíli’s barrel onto the shore so that it wouldn’t fall back in, then promptly slumped down to the ground and shook, feeling as if the water seeped into his very bones and chilled them. The company, at least, seemed to all be there even if they grumbled and complained as they left their barrels behind. It stung a bit to know that his plan had been so unpopular. They escaped, didn’t they? 

He heard someone muttering something about apples and looked up to see Fíli wringing out his hair before bending over to help his struggling brother out of his barrel. Bilbo tried asking them if they were all right, but instead had to cough water out of his lungs and settled for looking them over as the two huddled close together for warmth.

Thorin happened to walk past at that moment, checking over his nephews and saying something to them in Khuzdul. 

_Good,_ Bilbo started to think, _maybe he…_

Yet he was met with only a blank stare before the king turned, muttered about water in his boots, and called out for the rest of the company to follow him. Stunned, Bilbo didn’t know what to think at first.

“Thorin,” he murmured, teeth chattering. His voice was a mere squeak and he was unsure if the king even heard him properly, for he continued to walk away.

Oh, what Bilbo would have given to be wrapped in his warm furs, although they did not appear so warm now that they were soaked through. Maybe Thorin couldn’t offer him physical warmth, but he could have at least acknowledged him instead of passing him by. Was he really angry at Bilbo?

“Don’t worry, Bilbo,” Fíli said, causing him to look back over. “His pride is just wounded.” After helping each other stand, both princes held out their hands to him.

“I h-hardly think I’m the o-one to b-blame,” he stuttered, thankful for the warmth of their arms around him. It wasn’t the same as Thorin, and they smelled like wet pups, but it helped him feel less rejected.

“He’ll come around,” Kíli said. “Just give him some space.”

That was the last thing Bilbo wanted to do, but before he could say so, a sudden voice called out to them from a man with a bow who didn’t look very happy to see them at all.

_And that’s all we need right now,_ Bilbo thought with a sigh, and another cough. _More trouble._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a long one, I know, I'm still not quite sure how I managed to write 17,000+ words with how busy I've been ;p The next chapter probably won't be as long, but do expect it within another month or so. Again, THANK YOU for reading, and just a happy reminder that it is 75 days until Desolation of Smaug! Yus!


	4. Lake-town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After washing up on the shores of Long Lake, the company is offered rest at last by the peaceful inhabitants of Lake-town. Unfortunately Bilbo falls ill after his exposure to the harsh elements during his long barrel ride, but a warm house and a doting king helps him back on his feet again. He learns more of the town, of the fear in the hearts of those who lost their home to dragon fire once before, and the consequences their actions may bring. However, they are so close to their journey's end and a surprising declaration from Thorin means that Bilbo will fight to keep the promises he made to the bitter end. He just hopes that the end will not come anytime soon, for his future with the king is one that he could have never even dreamed of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many continued thanks and love to my beta/sanity: cakelydemise

Bilbo regarded the man who introduced himself as Bard with some wariness. Of course, the men standing behind him clutching weapons and wearing stern expressions didn’t help, but there was something about the way Bard looked at them that made Bilbo think he already knew of their purpose. Thorin didn’t hesitate to step forward, though, coming right out and saying that he was the returning King under the Mountain.

“Your people know of us,” he said, “and your Master as well. I would ask to speak with him.”

“And if we refuse to bring you?” Bard wondered. “You offer us no proof.”

Thorin’s expression darkened, but he kept his head held high.

“Then I shall _demand_ you bring us,” he said in a stern voice, “although I hope for all of our sakes it will not come to that. We are weary and in need of dry clothing and a safe place to stay.”

Bard shook his head, conferring with his men for a time. He didn’t look convinced, and at one point looked rather angry at the situation, although Bilbo could not possibly fathom why.

“It i-isn’t as if we m-mean any h-harm,” he spoke out loud, teeth still chattering.

“I can’t imagine that a group of soaking wet dwarves would look imposing,” Fíli snorted. Indeed, many of them had slumped back down on the ground during Thorin’s exchange with Bard, exhausted and oddly quiet with the exception of a few grumblings. Not one would protest to a warm fire, some food, and a safe bed no matter who ended up providing it.

“Come with us,” came Bard’s voice, “and you will meet with the Master of our town before anything else is decided.”

The company followed after with gratitude, all being extremely polite to the point where Bilbo hardly recognized them as the same dwarves he had been traveling with. Perhaps it had to do with their respect for the neighboring town. After all, the LonelyMountain loomed ahead like a specter through the mist and he knew at least some of the history between the dragon and the burned city of Dale. Bilbo shivered, not just from the cold, but from the creeping feeling that this would be the beginning of their journey’s end. How the inhabitants of Lake-town could live under the silent oppression of such a large mountain was beyond him, but then he figured _they_ weren’t expected to venture into the mountain to face its only fire-breathing inhabitant.

“Wow,” breathed Kíli beside him.

“There they are, _nadad_ ,” Fíli whispered. “All of the tales we’ve grown up listening to, all the stories Thorin would tell us by the fire or before bed, are inside that one mountain.”

_That’s certainly a nicer way of viewing it,_ Bilbo thought to himself. He supposed if he had grown up hearing all the good things about the mountain he would have a much more positive view on it too. Still, his heart swelled at the way their eyes grew wide and their mouths hung open, like two fauntlings standing in front of a sweet shop with the promise of all things colorful and delicious inside. He held his tongue out of respect, not wishing to ruin the moment with his thoughts about what actually awaited them.

As Bard brought them to the curious town upon the lake, Bilbo chose to marvel instead at the unique structure of the place. The entire town appeared to be made out of wood, including the foundation that held it high above the water. At first glance it might have seemed fragile, that any large gust of wind that happened to blow by would knock it over into the waters below, but even Bilbo could appreciate the talent that went into its sturdy architecture. 

As they arrived at the gates, already there were stares directed their way and it only became worse when they ventured in. Most of the dwarves were stunned into silence at the excitement of the townfolk. Some appeared to know who they were, muttering to each other and pointing. They were not hostile- which Bilbo thought was certainly a welcome change- but became a little unnerving when they started to follow behind the company. By the time they had reached a large building in the center of the town there was a crowd of at least thirty gawking at them, and still more were joining in.

Bilbo had shuffled into the middle of the company, feeling very exposed all of the sudden and not quite comfortable with such a crowd when his head already felt like a troll was trying its very best to squeeze his brains out. They did not have to wait outside for long, thankfully, and were ushered inside as soon as Bard gave word. They walked into a grand hall not unlike Beorn’s, only it was filled with mountains of food as well as people making merry. At the head of the table sat a man that Bilbo could only assume to be the Master. He stood with a grunt, making his way over to them with a slight frown. Thorin wasted no time in announcing himself, loud enough for the entire hall to hear, which caused fervor all around much like what had been occurring outside.

Bilbo watched on in silence, wiping his fevered brow and hoping that Thorin would be more convincing than intimidating. He was thinking he at least needed to sit soon if not find a bed to rest in when he found himself unintentionally leaning into Bofur. The dwarf only chuckled at his murmured apology and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders.

“You look as though you need a good long rest, my friend.”

“I could sleep for a week.” 

“You may just get the chance to. Durin’s Day is not for a while yet.” 

“Thank goodness for that,” the hobbit yawned. 

“You say you passed through the Woodland Realm?” the Master asked, catching Bilbo’s attention again. “I heard rumors that King Thranduil captured a band of dwarves only to have them slip out from under his nose. Might you be those same prisoners?” 

“We are prisoners no longer,” Thorin stated. “We are now visitors in your town and deserve respect if we are to buy your goods and services.” 

Bilbo winced, eyeing the guards around him warily as they tightened the grips on their spears, yet the people continued to murmur excitedly until they could no longer be ignored. With awe, the hobbit watched and listened as they chatted excitedly about the return of the king. Even though the Master was hesitant and Bard was still suspicious, they were soon offered seats at the feast and invited to eat as much as they could. Thorin was even offered the Master’s seat, which he took with grace, while Fíli and Kíli sat on either side of him. Bilbo chose his own next to Bofur, trying hard to drown out the loud chattering and forcing some food into himself. 

He managed a small meal of meat and potatoes between blowing his nose and trying to stay awake. Drowsiness was slowly starting to overcome him and Bofur elbowed him at one point to keep him from going face first into his dinner. 

“Hmmf?” 

“Almost there, laddie, stay with us a bit longer. Don’t want to go disrespecting the Master, do ya?” 

Bilbo looked up and over at the large man, only to meet his eyes. 

“Oh! Why is he staring at me?” 

“Dunno. You are a curious fellow. Perhaps he’s never seen a hobbit before?” 

“I don’t know why he would’ve,” Gloin grunted from Bilbo’s other side. “My guess is he’s never been west of the Misty Mountains.”

“Seems a bit shady to me,” Bofur said. “I’d steer clear of him if I were you, lad.” 

“With pleasure,” Bilbo mumbled, having had enough of shady characters for one lifetime. 

After the feast finally came to an end, their group was jostled through the town by the singing crowd until they were brought to a big house which- to Bilbo’s further surprise- was offered freely to the entire company. They poked around the inside, claiming rooms and marveling at the big furniture and even bigger pantry. 

“Would you look at that!” 

“It’s even bigger than _your_ pantry, Mister Baggins!” 

“We could stay here for weeks!” 

“That’s how I wish to spend this little vacation,” Bilbo mumbled to himself afterwards, stoking the fire in his cozy room. “Waiting idly by in comfort for the day to come when we take on a dragon. Ha! Yes, I’m sure relaxation will be easy to come by under the glare of that mountain.” 

But Bilbo wasn’t being truly honest with himself. Despite his bothersome cold, the unnerving stare from the Master, and their looming fate, he did feel true relief for the first time since their stay at Beorn’s. They were safe and all accounted for, given a house for themselves and celebrated by a town that barely even knew them. There were certainly worse fates, and it was nice to be spared from them for once. 

After exploring the rest of the house for a while, Bilbo’s curiosity got the better of him when he started catching loud verses of song from outside. He ventured out onto the porch, hugging his new coat close to him, and was shocked at what he heard: 

_The King beneath the mountains,_

_The King of carven stone,_

_The lord of silver fountains_

_Shall come into his own!_  

_The streams shall run in gladness,_

_The lakes shall shine and burn,_

_All sorrow fail and sadness_

_At the Mountain-king’s return!_  

He caught sight of the lads during his listen, feeling a surge of pride at the way the Durins were regarded. Fíli and Kíli were listening attentively to a group of older men, perhaps those who knew the tales best, and not too far away was Thorin talking with another group. What happened next made his chest tighten, and he was grateful that he decided to step out of the house. 

A little girl had gone up to Thorin and proceeded to tug lightly on the hem of his coat. The king failed to notice at first, but when the girl was bold enough to give one hard pull it was then that he looked down. His stern expression instantly cleared into one of curiosity. Ignoring the way the men told the little girl to go away, he kneeled to her level and murmured something Bilbo couldn’t hear. The girl gave a big toothy grin, appeared to giggle, and leaned up on her tip-toes to plant a soft kiss on the dwarf’s cheek while placing a flower behind his ear. Stunned, it took Thorin a moment to stand up again after the child ran off, yet even from a distance Bilbo could see the red on his cheeks. He kept the flower in place and continued on with his conversation, lightly touching it every now and then when he thought no one was looking. 

Shaking his head and dabbing at his eyes, the cold was starting to get the better of Bilbo and he retreated back into the house with lightness finally returning to his heart. He was still confused and hurt over how Thorin treated him earlier, but was reminded that the king still had a heart of gold. 

He was quick to locate a bathtub after that, finding that water already heated and waiting to be poured, and so he bathed just long enough to scrub weeks of grime out of every unpleasant crevice of his body. It didn’t take too long, to his surprise, but the water afterwards was a vile, soupy mess.

“By Yavanna,” he muttered, toweling himself off while regarding the water. “There must be an entire army of goblins in there.” 

After finally donning a clean nightgown and wrapping up in a warm robe, Bilbo padded back to his room. He could hear the muffled sounds coming from the celebrations outside although how the rest of the company was able to keep going was beyond him. He very much looked forward to the quiet warmth of his own room. 

He settled in the window seat for a while, glad for the fact that it didn’t afford him the view of the Lonely Mountain but instead just a darkening sky over the water. He blew his nose once more, cursing quietly at the inconveniences of a runny nose before he heard the door to his room creak open. Startled, he looked up just as Thorin slipped in. The king looked weary from the telltale creases around his eyes and the difficulty he had in holding himself up. Bilbo knew the signs well. 

“Bored of the festivities?” he wondered despite knowing better. A tense silence followed before his visitor let out a sigh. 

“Tired,” Thorin said, “and rather out of practice with pleasing a devoted crowd bigger than our company.” 

“You looked rather in your element to me.” 

“That is good to hear. As long as I am convincing, then I am successful. I was nodding off, though, so I thought it best to call it a night before I made a fool of myself.” 

“And so you were just heading for your room.” 

“I wished to speak with you beforehand,” the king said softly. 

“Oh.” Bilbo glanced around the room, sniffing and rubbing at his eyes before considering their options. “Well, I would invite you to sit but I fear the only chair in this room is the one I’m currently on.” His eyes then fell to the bed. “Unless, well−” 

“I am quite fine with standing,” Thorin chuckled, “but if you wouldn’t mind?” Bilbo gestured and Thorin sat gracefully at the very edge of the bed, knees nearly touching the hobbit’s. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. So, uhm…” He looked down at his hands, casting about for something to say. “Are you all right? I mean, it was a rather long time you spent in that cell, more than the others, and then that barrel ride probably aggravated your wounds as well as added to them.” He looked up quickly as a thought occurred to him. “You aren’t hiding any, are you?”

“No,” Thorin said firmly, “that I can promise you. I know you worry about me.” His mouth quirked. “I am stubborn and proud yet you make me feel _khuzdith_.” 

Bilbo felt his cheeks flush. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“What your kind refer to as fauntlings,” the dwarf explained, waving his hand as if it wasn’t important. “I hide nothing from you, Bilbo, I promise. I am a bit sore still, but the healers in this town made sure all was well.”

“Good,” the hobbit sighed. 

“And you?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you come to any harm along the way?” He considered the question perhaps a bit too long, for Thorin’s brow suddenly furrowed and he was leaning forward. “Bilbo?”

“No I, well, I have this annoying cold, but I’m fine.” He was inspected a moment longer by that unrelenting steel gaze and felt his chest tighten again. “Physically, anyway.” Thorin’s eyes widened and Bilbo froze when he realized he’d said that out loud. He was further surprised when the dwarf leaned forward to wrap his large hands around Bilbo’s. 

“I came to apologize for my actions earlier. If I have in any way made you feel unworthy, I assure you there is no one I feel more grateful for or indebted to other than yourself.” 

“I know,” Bilbo nodded, turning his palms up so he could link his fingers with Thorin’s. “I didn’t feel unworthy, I was just upset that the only escape plan I could think of was so wildly unpopular with you.” 

“It was remarkably uncomfortable.” 

“So you kept saying.” 

“We could have drowned.” 

“Honestly, if you−” But Bilbo faltered when Thorin looked down at their hands for a moment, squeezing gently before his mouth lifted in a small smile.

“Can I make it up to you?” he asked softly. Bilbo could feel his heart thudding hard in his chest, barely able to think about how unfair it was that Thorin could distract him from this conversation before darkened eyes looked back up at him. At that point, he could barely remember his _name_ let alone his still hurt feelings, even if he felt like a cold, disgusting mess. 

“I don’t think I would be very good company,” he admitted. “I feel like my head has been stuffed into a drain pipe and my bones are all rubbery. I know it’s just from the cold water and I should feel better soon, but-” 

“Of course, forgive me, I had not taken your illness into account.” Thorin stood, frowning and leaning forward to place a hand over Bilbo’s forehead. The hobbit’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact and he pushed his head up into the king’s warm, dry palm to seek relief from his cold sweat. “I would suggest a bath, but you are much too tired for that.” 

“I had one anyway.” 

“Then perhaps we should retire.” 

“Mmm, okay, but first…” Bilbo leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Thorin’s middle, burying his face in soft fabric and inhaling deep through his nose. The king hugged him close in response. “I’ve wanted to do that ever since we hit dry land.” 

“Bilbo,” Thorin whispered sadly, “I-” 

“I’ve forgiven you already, you don’t need to say it again.” He looked back up, propping his chin on Thorin’s chest and smiling. “Although it’s nice to hear.” In that moment, with eyes shining down at him, he couldn’t help but reach up and brush his fingers over the flower that was resting behind his dwarf’s ear. It was remarkable how the pretty, pale shade of blue almost matched his eyes perfectly. 

“These flowers used to grow along the eastern gate of Erebor,” Thorin whispered. “It shouldn’t surprise me that they grow here, only I thought the dragon fire brought ruin to most of our flora.” 

“Things grow back, especially when given sixty years to do so. Do you mind?” Thorin bowed his head, and as Bilbo pulled away he very gently removed the flower. He placed it in a vase that was sitting on the windowsill, making sure it stood out from the other living flowers. “That way it will keep for longer.” 

“I should hope to gaze upon it for as long as it stays fresh.” 

“Hmm, well, that means we’ll have to share this room then.” 

Thorin laughed, shaking his head as he stripped down to his underclothes. 

“Only if you would have me.” 

“Well, I think we’ve already established that I already do have you.” 

“Aye, that you do. Come, Bilbo, you need your rest.” 

They climbed into the large bed, only slightly smaller than Beorn’s had been, but Bilbo soon learned quickly that his cold was going to cause him further trouble. At first he was happy to curl against Thorin’s chest, yet he grew hotter by the minute until he was breaking into another sweat and gasping for air. 

“Are you well?” Thorin asked, startled by the hobbit’s sudden change. 

“You’re so very warm,” Bilbo groaned. “One moment I’m comfortable and the next I’m suffocating!” He squirmed around until Thorin pinned him down with one hand and turned him so that his back was against the king’s chest. 

“Better?” 

“Mmm, a bit.”

“Do you want the covers down?" 

“Perhaps just the top sheet will do, unless you’ll be too cold?” 

“I don’t get cold easily,” Thorin said, pushing the heavy quilt down. 

“Good. Oh, that’s much better. Sorry I’m such a bother.” Bilbo felt an arm wrap very lightly around his middle and lips brush against his cheek. 

“Of course not, my _kurdel_ , now sleep.” 

He tried to, really, for as tired and emotionally drained as he was he desperately needed sleep, but it was to be a fitful slumber. Night sweats led to night shivers and back to overbearing heat again. At one point he woke to find Thorin wrapped around him like a blanket as his teeth chattered and his body shook. 

“B-but I was j-just so hot!” Bilbo complained. “I d-don’t-” 

“Ssh,” the king murmured, pulling the quilt back up. Bilbo tried his best to burrow into Thorin’s chest, relishing the warmth he couldn’t stand before. He tried to focus on _anything_ other than the shivers wracking his body, but the lips against his temple and the soft words of comfort they whispered helped to distract him a little. He managed to doze after that, and although he wouldn’t remember much from that evening other than how awful he felt, Thorin had stayed awake to make sure he was comfortable every time he stirred. 

The morning came with no change in poor Bilbo’s condition, and the sunlight streaming in through the windows only added to the pain in his now throbbing head. 

“Hot or cold?” he heard Thorin mumble. He turned his head, having woken up again with his back to the king, and looked up at him with bleary eyes. 

“Hot.” He winced at how weak his voice sounded. Thorin nodded once, pushed the covers away and gently kissed his forehead before standing. “Thorin,” he rasped, “where-” 

“I’ll be back with Óin,” he explained, throwing on his trousers and tunic. 

“You don’t need to bother him. Oh…” Bilbo sighed as Thorin left without another word. It was still quite early to be rousing the healer out of his much deserved sleep for a mere cold, but there was nothing Bilbo could do to stop him. 

Bilbo let his eyes drift closed, feeling quite physically drained, but he didn’t have to wait very long for Thorin to return with Óin. 

“What seems to be the problem, laddie?” the healer asked, peering down at him with his eyebrows cocked.

When Bilbo explained his symptoms, Óin hummed to himself before making the hobbit sit up and proceeded to poke and prod at him with various different instruments. He didn’t look particularly pleased when he listened to Bilbo’s chest, a frown tugging at his moustached lips when the hobbit coughed. “Don’t like the sound of that.” 

“What?” Thorin asked, crowding in beside the other dwarf. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Bilbo said reassuringly. He felt guilty over the worry between Thorin’s eyebrows and the bags under his eyes, wondering if he slept at all the night before. 

“It’s something to keep an eye on,” Óin finalized. “I can give you medicine to help break up the worst of it, and some to help you sleep. Rest will be the most important part of your recovery, especially with all that cold air blowing around out there. No traipsing around the town just yet, young master.” 

As Óin scribbled a few notes and set aside two bottles with thick, brownish liquids Bilbo wasn’t going to look forward to, Thorin sat next to him on the bed. The hobbit sighed when the king’s large hand came up to feel his forehead again, leaning into him and allowing himself to be coddled. 

“I promise I’ll be okay,” he said quietly, “I just need to be able to sleep.” 

“Óin’s medicines are the best I have ever encountered,” Thorin assured him. “He cared for all of the dwarves living in Ered Luin and we’ve only lost numbers under dire conditions.” 

“That’s...comforting.” 

“There we are, then,” Óin finalized. “I’ll be back to give you your dosages when the time comes-” 

“I can give them to him,” Thorin said. 

“Eh?” 

“I said I wouldn’t mind giving them to him.” 

“You don’t have to, Thorin,” Bilbo said. 

“I will be staying with you, after all,” the king pressed on, “and I have experience from when Fíli and Kíli would fall ill.” 

“If you’re sure, laddie,” Óin said. “It isn’t terribly difficult, just a spoonful of each at breakfast and before bed.”

Thorin nodded, standing back up to clasp Óin’s hand and offering him his sincere thanks. Left with no other choice Bilbo sighed and nestled back down into the pillows, voicing his own gratitude loud enough for the healer to hear before he left the room. 

“I don’t wish to be a burden,” he said weakly, feeling what little strength he mustered for Óin to check him out starting to leave him. Thorin turned back to him with the saddest expression Bilbo only remembered seeing once or twice before, approaching him with great care before sitting by him once more. 

“You are never a burden,” he said, sorrow tugging at his voice, “and I was a fool for ever thinking you could be.” Bilbo tried to wave aside his words, but could barely lift his hand. “You should try to eat something so you can take your medicine.” 

“I don’t,” he gave a great yawn, “f-feel like it.” 

“Bilbo,” Thorin rumbled. “Please.” The hobbit looked back up, startled to see pleading in his eyes. His heart nearly broke, but as he struggled to sit up Thorin helped by wrapping an arm around his back. “Just some toast, then, and a bit of water. Óin advised against tea for right now, but you...what?” Bilbo’s expression must have made him falter, for his open and caring expression shut off almost instantly. 

“No, sorry. It’s just you’re being so, oh, I don’t know, kind. Not that you’re unkind,” he said quickly, “it’s just...I can imagine you sitting with the lads when they were sick, helping them get better. It’s entirely too touching for a warrior king,” he chuckled, covering his cough soon after. “I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather be with right now trying to get better.” 

_Other than my own mother,_ he added in his head, but that wasn’t possible for obvious reasons. The fact that Thorin ranked high alongside his own mother for helping him feel better, though, was surely worthy of note. 

The king still looked uncertain, but the tension left him as Bilbo chewed the offered piece of toast and sipped at the water. When he managed all he could and forced himself to swallow the medicine the hobbit leaned into Thorin with a sigh, eyes slipping closed as he allowed exhaustion to finally take over. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, nuzzling into his soft shoulder. “For everything.” 

Thorin helped him back down onto the bed, pulling the blanket over him and kissing his forehead. 

“For you, anything.” 

Those last words followed Bilbo as he drifted off, a smile on his face until he relaxed into the first deep and dreamless sleep he’d had in a long while. 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

There came a morning, about two days later, when Bilbo awoke feeling much like himself again. The sun was warm on his face but not unbearably so, and when he stretched his limbs his bones didn’t ache in protest. He sighed, coming to the slow realization that he was alone in the big bed, although he indulged himself by curling in the warm spot left by Thorin for a few moments before slowly sitting up. He was careful with his movements, placing his feet on the ground and waiting for the rushing in his head to settle before standing. No dizziness or pain overcame him, and he sighed happily when he found he could breathe through his nose again. 

He milled about, opening the window to air out the room a bit before shutting it again before the autumn air could chill him or disturb the flames in the fireplace. 

_Thorin must have lit it before he left,_ he thought with a smile. The king really had been so good to Bilbo, staying with him whenever he could and making sure he was comfortable. It was obvious he cared for him very much, but the hobbit knew that he was also trying his best to make up for his previous unkindness. 

A sudden knock on the door sent a thrill up his spine, but then he realized Thorin wouldn’t have bothered knocking and was only slightly disappointed to find Óin when he opened the door. 

“Good morning,” he said politely, stepping aside to let the healer through. After Thorin had fetched him the first morning during his sickness, the dwarf took it upon himself to check on Bilbo every morning and again at night to make sure he wasn’t getting any worse. 

“I’m surprised you’re up, lad,” the Óin grunted after he bustled in. Bilbo went to close the door, but a cry stopped him from doing so. 

“Oh...Kíli! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”

The fear in the prince’s eyes from almost dropping the breakfast tray he was holding changed to one of mirth as he walked in.

“That’s okay, Mister Baggins!” 

“Wouldn’t let me come up without him,” Óin sighed, spreading his medical supplies out on the bed. 

“I wanted to see how you were,” Kíli said. “I knew you would be lonely because Uncle Thorin had some meeting to attend, but we’ve all been worried about you too.” Bilbo quickly cleared some books from the table so he could set the tray down, trying to keep from drooling at how wonderful the food smelled. “You look a lot better than you did when we first got here, doesn’t he Mister Óin?” 

“I certainly feel better,” he murmured. 

“Well,” Óin said, “I will admit I didn’t expect your sickness to be as severe as it was, but come over here and let me have another look. Your color has certainly improved.”

Bilbo allowed himself to be poked and prodded once more as Óin mumbled to himself. He felt a pair of eyes on him after a while, though, and he glanced back up to find Kíli staring at him with his brow furrowed. 

“Something wrong, lad?” he wondered. His question seemed to startle the prince, causing him to look down at his feet and scratch the back of his neck. 

“Nothing, just...I’m glad you’re better.” 

Bilbo’s smiled at the sweet sentiment, but before he could respond Óin was stepping back and regarding him with a pleased expression. 

“Your chest sounds much clearer. That was my biggest concern, but I do believe the worst of your sickness has passed. It would do you some good to get out of this room for a while.” 

“I can show you around the town!” Kíli said, his voice much happier. “They have the most peculiar decorations for autumn and you _have_ to try their mead-” 

“That’s all well and good, lad,” Óin interrupted as Bilbo laughed behind his hand, “but our burglar is to take it easy for now. Don’t go getting him hammered on his first day out or your uncle will never let ushear the end of it.” 

Kíli winced, but Bilbo let out a laugh as he took a seat at the table. 

“First things first, though,” he said, licking his lips and looking over his choices. 

“Right you are,” Óin agreed, packing his things back up and heading for the door. “Don’t overdo it, and I want to see how you are after you come back.” 

“Thank you, Óin,” he said, nodding to the healer before tucking into his breakfast.

He made quick work of the food, reveling in the tasty jam on sugar bread and the mushroom-smothered brown trout while he chatted amiably with Kíli. He really was feeling much better with some food in his belly, and Kíli’s accounts of what the other dwarves had been up to helped cheer him. 

“Are the townspeople still so welcoming?” he wondered. 

“To be honest we can’t get away from them sometimes. Always asking us questions about where we’re from or complaining that we’re too thin.” The prince chuckled. “The food here is wonderful, though. Uncle says we shouldn’t abuse their hospitality, but we can’t help it when they push food into our hands!” 

“Well, I think you lot more than deserve it after nearly starving to death.” Bilbo shook his head, finishing the last of his tea. “I’m especially happy to see that your health has returned too, my lad. You had me worried.” 

“Honestly, between you and Fíli,” Kíli scoffed playfully, getting up from his chair. The hobbit smiled and left it at that. He set his napkin down next to his empty plate and went in search of his new coat. 

“Speaking of which,” he went on, “it’s rather odd not seeing the two of you together.” 

“Uncle asked him to accompany him to the meeting.” The prince frowned at this, but soon shook his head. “I’m sure they’ll be finished soon. The Master can’t have very many interesting things to say. Are you ready?” 

They set out into the brisk morning, the mix between the breeze coming off the lake and the warm sun on Bilbo’s face a most welcome comfort. He listened as Kíli went on about the different shops and the history of the town (he seemed to have picked up on a lot within two days) while the hobbit offered nervous smiles to their onlookers. 

_They must not get too many exciting visitors,_ Bilbo thought. 

“They’ve been quite curious about you too,” Kíli said, having noticed as well. “I may have told them a thing or two about how you’ve saved our lives-” 

“Hardly,” Bilbo scoffed. 

“-though how you can deny it at this point is beyond me. Fíli thinks you should be made a Lord once we reclaim Erebor.” 

“O-oh? And what do _you_ think?” 

“I said that we should start petitioning Uncle once we get closer.” 

Bilbo’s mouth was gaping by this point, and Kíli had to throw an arm around him as he stumbled. Before he could respond to such an enormous gesture, though, the prince was leading him into a rather loud tavern. He felt as if he couldn’t function properly at first, having gone from the peaceful streets of the town to a raucous, cramped environment filled with drinking and laughter. It surprised him to see men and women drinking so early in the day, perhaps on break from their work, but he soon realized the ones who were making the most noise were none other than the majority of his dwarven company. 

“Of course,” Bilbo sighed, though he could barely hear himself. At one table sat Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and Glóin, while Kíli led him over to sit with Dori, Ori, and Dwalin. The big warrior didn’t appear too pleased with the current conversation going on at his table, rolling his eyes as Dori bickered with Ori and tipping his chair back to speak with Glóin, but he suddenly shouted something in Khuzdul when he noticed Kíli and pulled the lad to sit beside him. Kíli laughed as his hair was ruffled, and Bilbo felt affection once again for his fellow company. 

“Good to have ya back, Bilbo.” 

A tankard was slammed down in front of him and he looked up to find Bofur winking before his friend worked his way back to his seat.

“It’s good to be back,” the hobbit murmured, shaking his head. He sipped at the mead- tasty, but a bit strong for the morning- as he listened to the conversations around him. The dwarves all had good experiences in the town so far, and more than once Bilbo noticed someone who seemed to be the owner of the place shaking his head when a gold piece was offered every time he refilled their mead. 

“They paid him at first,” Ori explained, “but he keeps insisting on free refills.” 

“I don’t know where they got their coin from to begin with,” Dori said, though he was nursing his own tankard. 

“That’s nice of him, though,” Bilbo said. 

“Everyone’s been really nice,” Ori nodded, then paused. “Well, except for-”

“What have I told you about that?” Dori scolded in hushed tones. Bilbo was immediately intrigued. 

“Except for what?” 

“It’s nothing, I assure you.” 

“Those glares last night weren’t nothing,” Dwalin cut in. 

“But we mustn’t speak of that here-” 

“What glares?” Kíli wondered. Dori sighed exasperatedly, returning to his mead. 

“On your own heads be it…” 

“Some of Bard’s men haven’t been as enthusiastic about us,” Ori continued. 

“What have they done?” Bilbo frowned. 

“Nothing, but they never look very happy about us being here.” 

“I don’t trust Bard much,” Dwalin gruffed, “and I trust the Master even less.” 

“The Master seemed nice,” Bilbo said softly. 

“Yeah,” Kíli said, “but he’s a bit slimy. From what I hear he’s greedy with his gold.” 

“To the point where some of his people suffer for it,” Ori added. 

“And Bard is the Master’s right hand man.” 

“And his spy,” Dwalin nodded. 

“Now, hang on,” Bilbo said. “Where did you hear all of this?” 

“The people of Lake-town don’t just shower us with praise,” Dori spoke up. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m not saying I believe them, but they’ve been confiding in us with some things.” 

“You just don’t _want_ to believe it,” Dwalin countered. 

“I beg your pardon, I just choose not to believe everything I’m told until I know the facts!” 

“Eh, you’d just rather side with authority.” 

This, unsurprisingly, resulted in a shouting match joined by Kíli and Ori until the noise at their table rivaled the other table once again. Bilbo sat back with a sigh, but a voice from behind him quickly drew his attention away from the others. 

“What’s all this, then?” 

Bilbo turned and smiled when he saw the golden haired prince standing behind him with mead in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other. When the hobbit only shook his head in response, Fíli smiled and went to sloppily hug his shouting brother from behind. 

“Are you causing trouble again, _nadadith?_ ” 

“Fíli!” Kíli immediately forgot the argument and turned to kiss him, grinning wildly as his cheeks flushed. “I thought you were with Uncle?” 

“I was, but he said I could go. Thanks, Mister Bilbo.” The hobbit had squeezed an extra stool between himself and Kíli so the older prince could sit. The rest of the company calmed down in the presence of the lad, Dwalin reaching over to slap him on the back while everyone else voiced their greetings. 

“What was it about?” Kíli asked, leaning into him. 

“Secret stuff,” Fíli smiled mischievously, winking at Bilbo while Kíli groaned. 

“We were just talking about that,” Dwalin said. 

“Shouting more like,” Bilbo pointed out. 

“What, you mean Uncle?” Fíli asked. 

“No, this lot was-” 

“Mister Bilbo,” Dori interrupted, “it’s nothing to worry the lad over.” 

“It wouldn’t worry him,” Dwalin scoffed. “You don’t give him enough credit!” 

When the table burst into a shouting match once again (really only between Dwalin and Dori this time) Bilbo leaned in to talk with Fíli. 

“Is the Master really that bad?” he wondered. 

“He’s not pleasant,” the prince winced. “He’s not sinister, at least I don’t think so, but he certainly has his own agenda.” 

“And what of Bard?” 

“He is respected in this community, certainly, and he is very protective of it. I think he fears what will happen if we rouse Smaug out of the mountain.” 

“Oh.” Bilbo faltered, eyebrows stitched together. “I hadn’t thought of that.” 

“They built this town after Smaug destroyed Dale. You’ll remember that from the stories Balin told.” 

“I do.” 

“It seems that Bard is a descendant of one of the great Lords of Dale who was killed when Smaug came through.” 

“So he _isn’t_ keen on us being here.” 

“He seemed nice enough to me,” Kíli said, for he had been listening in. 

“But we should be wary nonetheless, _nadad_ , especially around his men.” 

Bilbo let his eyes trail down to the rolled up piece of parchment Fíli had placed down on the table. When the prince noticed him looking, he sighed. 

“What is it?” Bilbo asked. 

“Something not unlike your contract, dear burglar. It seems that upon learning of our quest, the Master requires payment after all for our stay in Lake-town. Once we reclaim Erebor, he desires his share of our gold. Uncle sent me away to read it while he still speaks with him.” 

“Then shouldn’t you be reading it?” Bilbo exclaimed. 

“We have until tomorrow,” the prince chuckled, “no need to worry. My head was still spinning after I left so I decided to seek out a pint with my friends first.” 

“Can I read it?” his brother asked, a playful gleam in his eyes. 

When Fíli hesitated at first, however, Kíli’s expression fell to one of confused disappointment. It was then that Bilbo understood the different expectations placed on the two princes, that the eldest was entrusted which much more responsibility than the youngest, but this caused some discordance since the two were so very close to each other. After a moment where Bilbo was certain he would deny his brother, Fíli finally gave in. 

“Of course you can,” he said softly, curling his fingers in Kíli’s hair and tugging affectionately. “Later, though, and _don’t_ tell Uncle.” 

Kíli whooped, pulling his brother in for another kiss before leaping up to refill both their tankards. Fíli leaned back in his chair with a sigh, shaking his head when Bilbo cocked his eyebrow. 

“ _Should_ you let him read it?” 

“Probably not, but I learned very early on how impossible it is to resist him.” He chuckled. “I’m much happier for it if I just give in.” 

They stayed in the tavern for the rest of the afternoon, the conversation thankfully taking a more peaceful turn. It was only until Bilbo stifled a yawn that Fíli nudged him and asked if he was well. 

“I am,” the hobbit nodded. “Just...too much mead, perhaps.” 

“Nothing a walk can’t fix.” The golden prince clasped him on the back before standing. “Come, Kíli, let’s show Mister Baggins around a bit.” 

“But I already- oh.” 

Bilbo wasn’t sure how to interpret the look Fíli gave his brother, but soon both princes were leading him out with a chorus of good-byes coming from behind them. Once they were out, Bilbo was immediately happier for it and more awake as the crisp breeze caressed his face again. As they walked through different parts of the town this time Fíli recalled his own knowledge just as Kíli had earlier, pointing out certain shops and buildings. There was much laughter from the brothers as they fooled around with each other, both in such good moods that Bilbo didn’t have the heart to tell them to behave. He was happy to see them so lively again, even if Fíli did seem a bit distracted by the parchment currently in his inner breast pocket. Bilbo caught him checking to see if it was still there from time to time (which in turn made him check his pocket for his ring) but other than that the older prince was all smiles as he bantered with his brother. 

“That’s not how you wear it, Kee,” he scoffed playfully. They had stopped in front of a clothing stand when a certain scarf caught Kíli’s attention. Bilbo watched with amusement as the lad tried to tie it around his neck using some ridiculous knot that resulted in a lumpy mess of fabric. 

“Yes it is!” he claimed, fiddling with the scarf. “I’ve seen it like this before.” 

“No you...Kíli, you’ve seen it like that on a _blind beggar!_ ” 

Bilbo couldn’t control the loud laugh that forced itself from his lips, having to cover his mouth as he watched Kíli’s look of confusion shift into one of embarrassment. 

“W-Well,” he stuttered, “ _you_ tie it since you know so much about scarves!” 

“All right,” Fíli said. He sidled in closer to his brother, smirking as he worked at the scarf with deft fingers until it lay smooth on Kíli’s chest and framed his face nicely. “There you go, handsome.” 

“It looks quite nice,” Bilbo agreed, “or it _would_ if you would stop pouting.” 

“Does it?” Kíli wondered. 

“That’s two gold pieces, laddie,” the owner of the stand said, walking over to them. 

“Oh, I don’t...what are you doing, _nadad?_ ” 

“Buying you a scarf,” Fíli shrugged as he handed over the gold. 

“But I already have one.” 

“Right,” the golden prince laughed. “The one with the holes in it, yes? You’ve had it for years.” 

“You gave it to me.” 

“Well, now I’m giving you another one.” 

Kíli didn’t look certain, but the gold was already exchanged and the owner wasn’t paying them any more attention. After a moment of contemplation, Kíli ran his hand over the soft fabric and smiled. 

“Thanks, Fee,” he said softly. 

Fíli put an arm around his shoulders, drawing him in close as they set off again. Bilbo smiled, shaking his head and very much thankful to be trusted to witness some of the sweeter moments between the two warrior princes. 

They made their way back to the house, then, Bilbo fixing himself and the lads a late lunch despite their protests. 

“I can manage,” he assured them. “I’ve been coddled long enough, thank you very much, and I should like to do something useful.” 

Further attempts from the princes to help were met with smacks from Bilbo’s wooden spoon, so they eventually chose to sit by and keep up a light chatter while the hobbit cooked.

_What a lovely afternoon,_ Bilbo thought to himself as he turned the bacon. It was similar to a normal day in the Shire, going out and about visiting the local shops, but he found he enjoyed it much more when he had friendly companions going along with him. He had been very alone in the Shire, now that he thought of it, and that made him frown slightly. For all the relatives he had, he still led a very secluded life, and it wasn’t entirely from his own doing. He was a quiet hobbit to be sure, preferring his books and his garden at the best of times, but he only had a few he could call friends. All the others either wanted something from him or gossiped about him. Not to say he didn’t miss his home, but he could say that the friendship he found within Thorin’s company would have done his life in the Shire some good. 

He chuckled to himself at the very thought of _dwarves_ living in Hobbiton, at how Lobelia Sackville-Baggins would squawk and hide at the very sight of them! They would certainly keep her away from his silver, that much was certain. 

“What’s so funny, Mister Baggins?” Kíli asked him. 

“Oh, nothing,” he said, smiling over his shoulder at the lad. Yes, he certainly could get used to at least having these two princes at his table, along with Thorin of course. They would make quite the family… 

His thoughts faltered, and he shook his head at himself before turning to serve the lads their meal. 

_Back to reality then, Bilbo. You know once they reclaim Erebor your role as burglar will be finished._  

Truthfully he didn’t know what was to become of him afterwards now that Thorin obviously reciprocated his feelings. There was no doubting the loyalty with which the king showed him, but once he reclaimed his kingdom there would obviously be a lot more on his plate. Whether or not Bilbo fit into his plans caused the hobbit some uncertainty, although he soon brushed it off before it could bring down his happy mood. He would cherish the time he had left with his new friends, and whatever would come would be dealt with in time. 

“Don’t tell Bombur I said this,” Fíli said, “but I think you’re the best cook I’ve ever met.” 

Bilbo laughed, joining the princes at the table and tucking into his own lunch, thoughts soon forgotten as he enjoyed their company the rest of the afternoon. 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

After another walk around town and dinner with the company who were still in the same tavern, Bilbo was starting to feel a pleasant hum of drowsiness start to settle in. He waved off offers of being escorted home, assuring them that he knew his around way now, and so bid the rowdy dwarves a good night. He walked along the streets with a smile on his face, admiring the lights of the town at night and how they reflected off the water, and found himself back at the house in no time at all. If he noticed some of the men staring at him as he walked by then he didn’t think anything of it, not able to see under the cloak of darkness their stern expressions or deep frowns. 

The house was quiet and warm when he entered it, and as he padded up the steps he was starting to miss a certain someone. To go from seeing Thorin for two days straight to not seeing him for an entire day made Bilbo’s heart yearn for the king in a way that made him feel like a tween again. After performing all the necessary ablutions Bilbo wrapped a towel around himself and finally made his way to his bedroom, thinking that he would very much like to see Thorin again before going to sleep. 

“I just don’t understand what he could be...oh!” 

When he walked in he was shocked to see Thorin occupying one of the chairs by the fire, a book in his hand and a pipe in the other. The king looked up with a smile, the twinkling firelight making his eyes shine and stopping the poor hobbit’s heart for a beat or two. 

“I thought I heard you come in,” Thorin rumbled, tapping out his pipe and standing. 

“Y-Yes.” A blush colored his cheeks as he carefully set his clothes down, crossing his arms in front of his bare chest as he walked up to the king. “I was wondering where you’ve been all day.” 

“I do apologize for leaving early. You were sleeping so peacefully and I didn't have the heart to wake you." 

"That's quite all right," Bilbo said softly. "I understand that you met with the Master." Thorin let out a deep sigh, to which Bilbo couldn't help but chuckle. "We don't have to talk about it right now." Feeling bold, he reached out to gently take one of Thorin's hands into his own. The smile he received in return made his toes curl in the soft carpet. 

“Your color has returned," the king said. 

“Óin seems to think so as well.” 

“And unless I am mistaken, you had quite a merry romp throughout the town with my nephews today.” 

“I have been feeling much better,” Bilbo smiled. "Thanks to you, of course." 

"If it wasn't for Óin-" 

"I owe him my gratitude as well, but I seem to recall that you were the one who willingly stayed by my side during the worst of it when you didn't have to. In fact, you're quite lucky that whatever I had wasn't contagious." Bilbo poked the king's chest, playfully admonishing him until he was the one to blush this time. 

"Dwarves are resilient," he countered. "We do not catch cold very easily. Even if it was contagious, I still would have stayed with you." 

"Then you are a fool," Bilbo sighed, "but you're _my_ fool so I guess that makes it okay." 

There was a certain gleam in Thorin's eyes, and Bilbo suddenly knew from his expression alone that he wanted the evening to go to certain places they refrained from due to Bilbo’s sickness. It had been much too long for either of them and even though they shared a bed, as nice as it was, Bilbo too felt the itch to be with his lover in a much more intimate way. 

He brought Thorin’s hand up to his mouth, lightly dragging his lips across each knuckle until it shook slightly within his grasp. He marveled at the way such strong hands could tremble from his touch alone, but soon Thorin broke from his grip to caress his cheek and trail lightly over his ear until _he_ was the one to shake. 

“Oh, that’s not fair,” the hobbit sighed shakily. 

“I can’t seem to resist,” Thorin chuckled, bending down to kiss his forehead in apology. “Shall we continue on the bed?” 

“Unless you want to stand the entire time.” Bilbo cocked an eyebrow, trying his best not to laugh as the king considered it. 

“We could,” he said, voice rough as he brought a hand down to Bilbo’s hip. He traced a finger just under the edge of the towel still preserving some of the hobbit’s dignity, leaving a trail of gooseflesh behind. 

“Uhm,” he squeaked. “No, bed. Now.” 

Thorin smirked, backing him up slowly until the backs of his knees hit the side of the bed. His breath hitched when he made contact, feeling trapped in a way that didn’t frighten him but made him shiver again as the king loomed over him. Steel blue eyes gazed at him with such intensity that he soon had to sit, feeling very lightheaded. 

“ _Kurdel,_ ” Thorin mumbled. Bilbo watched as he kneeled before him, hands still at his waist and rubbing soothing circles. 

“Sorry,” he breathed, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s just that you’re...you’re quite beautiful.” Thorin bowed his head at this, and Bilbo cursed himself for not keeping such foolish thoughts to himself. “I mean that in the best way possible, please don’t-” 

“I know.” One corner of the king’s lips lifted in a crooked smile, and Bilbo released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “I am just not used to such unabashed praise.” 

“Oh, well, you are,” Bilbo said weakly. Thorin looked back up at him with such a sweet, timid look in his eyes that the hobbit was sure he had never seen before. “Truly,” he whispered, his voice stronger this time as he leaned forward to kiss him. The king made a desperate noise in the back of his throat, pressing up into the kiss until Bilbo had no choice but to shift back onto the bed. 

Thorin straddled his hips, pinning him down and making him writhe with the pleasure that came from a searing hot tongue caressing his lips and licking into his mouth. Bilbo moaned, arching up out of surprise as a particularly sensitive spot on the roof of his mouth was grazed. His response was met with a shudder and legs squeezing his thighs until they were flush against each other, both of their arousals muted from the cloth between them but yet still painfully apparent. There was a huff of breath from Thorin at the contact, but when Bilbo hooked his legs around his waist and thrusted up once, the resulting groan that came from deep within the king’s chest was intensely satisfying. 

“You must have been waiting for a while tonight,” Bilbo whispered, peppering his strong jaw with kisses. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” 

“I have been waiting longer than that, I assure you.” 

Their movements were languid and sweet against each other, kissing until their lips were swollen and their breathing was ragged. It was only until Thorin slid down his body that Bilbo realized his towel now hung dangerously low on his hips. He saw the smirk on the king’s lips as well, making a point to stretch until that tantalizing bit of skin just above his pelvis rose up. He chuckled at Thorin’s moan of appreciation, then he took in a gasping breath before laughing even more at the tickling beard and lips trailing across his navel. 

“Ah, I haven’t heard that sound since we were in the skin-changer’s home.” 

“I haven’t had much reason to laugh since then,” Bilbo sighed happily. 

Thorin paused for a moment before he kissed along the hobbit’s hipbone. 

“I hope to change that.” 

Bilbo almost didn’t hear the words, they were spoken so quietly, but the passion in Thorin’s voice tugged at his heart. Before he was able to become too sentimental, though, swift hands were untying the towel’s loose knot and letting it slip from his waist. Bilbo squirmed when he saw the adoration in Thorin’s eyes as he leaned down to nuzzle along his length, blushing at the contact and reveling in Thorin’s exquisitely gentle touch. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t resist the urge to roll his hips forward again, more heat pooling in his belly every time the king pressed a little harder or at just the right spot, and soon two hands came down to steady him before he was met with the slick warmth of Thorin’s mouth taking him in. 

He let out a gasp, pawing at the king’s hair before tangling his fingers in the thick mane. This...oh, _this_ was what he needed. All of that time spent worrying about the lives of the company and Thorin, when he’d nearly lost all hope and felt so very alone, he needed such a carnal act to both ground him and take him away from all of his worries. He was alive, _Thorin_ was alive, and it never felt more certain than when he was giving himself over to such sweet pleasure. He writhed under the king, murmuring encouragements as a wicked tongue swirled and teased around every inch of him until the soft words falling from his smiling lips were reduced to squeaks and moans. 

“Mmf, Thorin I… _oh_.”

He knew he wouldn’t last for much longer as a shudder coursed through him. Thorin made a low noise in the back of his throat at this, glancing up at Bilbo as he licked along the underside of his cock once more before pulling back. The hobbit whimpered, clutching at his hair but as he watched the king travel back up to settle along his body, he couldn’t bring himself to complain much. He picked his head up enough to kiss him, circling his arms around his neck and bringing him down. Thorin gave in with a smile.

“I borrowed something from Óin,” he whispered. Bilbo almost didn’t register what he said at first, too busy with chasing after his lips, but he paused when Thorin produced a small bottle from his pocket. 

“Borrowed?” The king shrugged, causing him to laugh. “Well, as long as it isn’t medicine.” 

“Do you know what I wish to use it for?” Thorin asked softly. At this, the hobbit fell silent, searching the steel blue eyes for any clue. He seemed rather serious about whatever it was- 

Ah, well, _obviously_. 

“I would rather you say it than I guess it,” he said, “but I think I know.” 

“You know of the fondness I regard you with, of the respect I have for you.” 

“Yes, of course,” Bilbo nodded, biting his bottom lip. 

“You must also know…” The dwarf faltered, looking away and shaking his head. 

“Thorin?” 

“Forgive me, Bilbo. It has been quite some time before I allowed myself to take such intimate pleasure with another, more intimate than we have been. If I were to somehow wrong you in this I don’t believe I would be able to forgive myself.” 

Bilbo cupped the king’s jaw with both of his hands, tilting his chin up to look him in the eyes. 

“Please just ask me. We’ve done our fair share of damage to each other and you know I’m not as delicate as I look.” 

“Indeed not,” Thorin murmured, “but it is easy to forget when you are under my care. I wish to take you, Bilbo, to claim you.” Bilbo dropped his hands as Thorin leaned forward to kiss and nip at his lips. “You are my _One_. I am sure of it." 

Stunned, Bilbo struggled to respond at first, giving in to the king’s heated kiss until he found himself shaking his head. 

“Thorin, are you sure?” He broke away, much to Thorin’s dismay, but was given room to sit back against the headboard. 

“Bilbo−” 

“We’re about to fight a dragon in order to reclaim your kingdom. I could die, and you…” He swallowed hard, hugging his knees to his chest and looking down. The fire that had burned hot in his belly flickered to a low flame as a sobering thought took over. “Well, you could too.” 

“I would die knowing that my heart had found its true mate,” Thorin said solemnly. 

“But if you were to live and I to die, what would become of you?” 

“It is not my choice to love you, Bilbo, I thought you a mere nuisance at first.” Bilbo winced. “It is the truth, but I was a fool. Even now−” 

“It doesn’t matter. I just want you to know that I’m not always going to come out victorious.” 

“I cannot imagine another like you, my dear one,” Thorin said. “Nor would I wish to find another. Even if our time is short, I would not regret a single moment of it.” 

“You know you will outlive me,” Bilbo said quietly, looking up with a sad smile on his lips.

“Not for very long, and even so I do not imagine I will rule for much longer without you by my side. That is if you choose to stay by my side,” the king added. “The burden, or perhaps the blessing, of only loving once is the depth at which that love runs. I could Fade soon after your passing, or I could continue to live on to see three hundred years.” 

“Three hundred?” 

“Aye. It is in the line of Durin to live past our normal lifespan. I would live to see Fíli take the throne if that is to be my fate.” 

“Oh, I wish I could see that,” the hobbit sighed. “It will be quite the sight to see you retake it, but to see both the lads grown and ruling a kingdom…” He sniffed, looking off to the side and blinking his tears away. There was no use in crying over the inevitable, although he should have been grateful for the many years he would still have to spend with them. 

When a gentle hand curled in his hair, he looked back up into eyes that were so kind that he couldn’t help but smile in return. Yes, he should be very grateful indeed. 

“I never did properly thank you for helping them while we were imprisoned,” Thorin said. “They mean the world to me. I will never have children of my own, so they are important to the wellbeing of Erebor as well as my own. I love them dearly."

"I do love them too," Bilbo whispered. "They have come to mean a lot to me and I only wish them well. They are so young still, but I know they will grow to be great kings." 

“And they also will miss you terribly,” Thorin admitted, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “I am unsure if they know of your lifespan, but we will explain it to them at a more convenient time.” 

“Is there a time for such a thing?” 

“There will be." The king nuzzled the bridge of his nose, tracing kisses back down to his mouth where he muttered again, “please, tell me. Will you let me claim you, and will you be my Consort should I come to rule Erebor again?” 

_Consort,_ Bilbo thought. He knew that word from his books. It was an important position to be sure, to not only be the loved one of the ruling King or Queen, but to offer them advice and stand by their kingdom even in the darkest of hours. It was a lot to ask of a small, humble hobbit, and Bilbo struggled to realize what it would all come to mean. What would he do with an entire kingdom of dwarves? They were a secret race and he knew nothing of their politics, but then surely Thorin wouldn't have asked him if he didn't think him capable? 

_Oh dear,_ _but I have gone from respectable hobbit to burglar to the lover of a king in a span of only a few months! And now I am asked to be the future Consort in a kingdom of dwarves! Oh, the troubles you have gotten yourself into, Bilbo Baggins. This most certainly was not in the contract!_  

If there had been time to mull over every inch of it, he would have taken it, but Durin’s Day was approaching fast. He would certainly regret not saying yes if he were to lose Thorin, but now a whole new life lay ahead of him and he knew it didn’t involve him returning back to his old life in the Shire. 

_My old life,_ he thought. How quickly it changed from the life he lived for fifty years to an _old_ one. Could it so easily be left behind? He knew he loved Thorin and when he told him as much, the king’s brilliant smile made his heart ache.

“And I love you, although there is a much stronger word for it in Khuzdul than Westron can convey.”

“Then I shall have to believe you,” Bilbo whispered, “however, I ask for time to consider your proposal. It is quite a lot to consider! You have seen where I come from. I live very humbly in a quiet little hole in the ground.” 

“If I did not owe my allegiance to my kingdom, I would ask to move in with you." 

“You can’t be serious,” Bilbo chuckled. One look into the king’s eyes told him otherwise, and he shook his curly head before kissing him again. “I’ll never truly understand you, will I? Why would you, of all dwarves, prefer a hobbit hole over an entire mountain?” 

“When you’ve spent more of your years fighting to survive than living in peace, perhaps you will understand, but I would not wish such a thing on you. I realize I am asking you to abandon your home for an uncertain life in a shattered kingdom. My reasons are entirely selfish, I know, but the thought of you by my side as I restore Erebor to its former glory gives me strength that I did not known I was lacking before." 

Bilbo's mouth went dry at Thorin's confession, suddenly feeling the weight of his words resting heavy on his heart. 

"I..." 

"It is too much for you, I know," Thorin sighed, "but it is the truth and I owe it to you. I respect your wish for time to think it over, for as long as you need." 

"I will not take too long," Bilbo said quietly. In his heart he already knew his answer, but his sensible side still demanded to have a say. "I wouldn't make you wait on such an important thing." 

"Take as long as you need," Thorin said again, touching his forehead to Bilbo's and breathing in a shaky sigh. "That you would consider it at all has already done my heart well."

Bilbo rested a hand on the back of the king’s neck, weaving his fingers into his hair and stroking the soft skin until Thorin’s eyes slid shut out of pleasure.

"As for your other question," the hobbit said after a time, deciding that the mood wouldn't suffer from a bit of levity, "I find myself most interested in what you had in mind concerning that oil. If it is proper, of course, since we are only...courting. Is that right?" 

"I would be the one courting you," Thorin smiled, "since I asked first." 

"Of course," Bilbo huffed. "Well, I am unaware of your customs, but hobbits are never too fond of waiting to be properly married before partaking in, uh, certain acts." 

"It is not looked down upon," Thorin rumbled, the corners of his lips twitching. "Or should I say as long as the elders aren't aware of it, no one else has much care in what we choose to do in our own beds." 

"That's certainly a relief," Bilbo said. "I'm sure that if such heavy words hadn't passed between us, I would have already discovered what it means to be claimed by a mighty dwarf such as yourself." Thorin laughed at this, eyes shining as he cupped Bilbo's jaw with his large hands. "That isn't to say I regret our words, it's just that we ventured away from our first intent and it _was_ one that I planned on agreeing to."

"Indeed?" The king coaxed him into a deep kiss, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed close together again. “Is that a yes?” The sincerity in the king’s eyes and the warmth of big hands slipping down to the hobbit’s small waist was enough to make him take in a shuddering breath. “I must know,” Thorin rumbled, now eyeing Bilbo’s neck. 

“Y-yes…oh.” Rough lips immediately nuzzled the underside of his jaw. “Of course, you silly dwarf.” 

They returned to their position from before, Thorin pressed against Bilbo’s front and insisting on kissing him while the hobbit tried to rid him of his clothes. 

“Honestly,” Bilbo scolded him at one point, “we won’t get anywhere before the morning if you don’t take these off, and I’m tired of seeing them on you!” 

After much wrestling, a smile that was much too cocky for Thorin, and more heated kisses the king was finally rid of all his clothing. It was a sight Bilbo would never tire of, although he tried not to frown at the new scars running along his torso. 

_He is a warrior, after all,_ he told himself, _it is to be expected._  

As Thorin sidled up to him, pressing along his front, he was soon distracted from his thoughts. 

“Better?” Bilbo was asked, blue eyes twinkling down at him. 

“Mmm,” he sighed, pressing up against his lover. “Much better.” 

“As much as I adore your expressive face,” Thorin went on, trailing kisses along his cheeks, “I feel it would be better for you to lay on your front.” 

Bilbo agreed without much hesitation, turning over and settling into the bed with a sigh. His arousal was sated for a moment as he pressed against the soft cotton spread, but was still insistent as he anticipated Thorin’s next move. 

“Lift your hips then,” the king said from behind. Curious, Bilbo obeyed and soon realized that the pillow that now rest under him angled his backside up more. It was slightly more comfortable too, and he smiled at Thorin’s gesture. He really was a kindhearted lover. “I’m going to prepare you,” he murmured. “Have you ever-” 

“I was curious when I was young, dabbled in a few things.” Bilbo cast a cheeky smile over his shoulder. “Certainly not like this, though, I have to say.” 

Thorin returned the smile, running a soothing hand down his back before dribbling some of the oil onto his palm. Bilbo watched with interest and no small amount of lust as the king warmed the slick liquid, shivering when fingers pressed against his lower back. 

“Relax,” Thorin said. 

Bilbo rested his head back down onto the pillow, watching out of the corner of his eye as Thorin massaged his muscles. It certainly was easy to relax under his ministrations, and soon enough the hobbit felt his eyes slip closed out of pure bliss as the king worked the tension out of him. He would have even drifted off to sleep had it not been for fingers brushing against his backside and circling his hole. He opened his eyes at that, instinctively clenching at the sensation but reminding himself that Thorin needed in. The oil certainly helped, and as he felt it slick his entrance it helped him loosen up a bit. When the tip of a finger finally dared to enter him, he took a shuddering breath and pushed back a little. 

“Good,” he found himself babbling, “so very...well, considering that it is _you,_ I have to say that it is _very_ good.” 

“I’m going to stretch you a bit,” Thorin said, a smile in his voice. 

“You are most certainly welcome to.” 

Thorin worked at him for quite some time, paying special attention to when he would either hiss out of discomfort or moan with pleasure. Even after Bilbo felt ready, when he was so slicked with oil to where it dripped between his legs (oh, did he feel _dirty!_ ) Thorin still hadn’t pulled back. When he quietly voiced his desire to go on, the king hesitated, fingers still deep inside him. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I think at this point it wouldn’t matter if it were your fingers or your cock,” Bilbo chuckled breathily, “but I would rather we go through with our first intention.” 

This earned him a sweet kiss to the tip of his ear before Thorin slowly, _achingly,_ pulled his hand away. He felt cold and barren for a moment before the heat of Thorin’s body hovered over him, and he soon twitched with anticipation as he felt a nudge at his entrance. He took in steady breaths, trying to focus on relaxing, but soon his toes were curling out of excitement when he was breached little by little. The stretching burn made him ache, the temptation to twist and writhe threatening to overcome him, although the king soon paused. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo groaned, his voice muffled by the pillow. Lips kissed along the back of his neck until they reached his ear. 

“Are you well?” Thorin whispered. Bilbo shivered, shifting under him and gasping when Thorin’s length slipped in further. “Easy.” The king’s voice was shaky this time and Bilbo knew he was trying to steady himself. “I should have prepared you more-” 

“Don’t,” Bilbo hissed before he could finish. “Just...stay.” He turned his head to look up at him, smirking when he saw the lust darken his lover’s eyes. “Please?” 

Thorin swallowed hard, nodding before brushing his lips over the hobbit’s. 

“I will, but slowly. Promise me.” 

“Yes...ah,” Bilbo groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as his shifting caused his cock to brush against the edge of one of the pillows beneath him. Thorin chuckled darkly, pushing in slightly more before stopping again to allow the both of them to adjust. “W-We should have done this sooner.”

“I will not disagree,” Thorin growled. His arms slipped under Bilbo, who pushed up in response to the cool hands splayed against his belly and caused the both of them to cry out as the king was completely buried in his backside. “ _Bilbo!_ ” 

“It’s okay,” the hobbit reassured him, “I promise- _oh,_ my word, just...don’t move for a moment, let me just…” He panted, burying his head into the pillow and willing himself to relax. He felt Thorin’s lips on his shoulder, focusing on that for a moment until teeth started nipping at his skin and he was overcome once more. “Incorrigible,” he grumbled. 

“Irresistible,” Thorin countered. 

“Mmm.” Bilbo smiled, picking his head up and looking over his shoulder. His next quip faltered when he saw the heat in Thorin’s eyes, his mouth drying as he leaned up to kiss him. He pushed back, then, feeling the hiss between Thorin’s teeth on his lips and kissing him harder until they were both moaning. 

“Bilbo, I can’t-” 

“It’s okay now.” 

“My burglar,” Thorin growled. Bilbo could feel him pulling back slowly, biting his lip before letting out a pleased whimper as he was filled again. 

It was too much, it wasn’t enough, and it was _everything_ Bilbo ever wanted from his king. It started with gentle thrusts, then gradually became quite voracious the more Bilbo felt himself loosening. Soon he was able to accept Thorin driving into him with no pain (not that he had much to begin with, mind you) and focused completely on his own singing pleasure as well as the glorious sounds coming from the king. There were shouts of Khuzdul, making him sound utterly feral, but then there were murmurs of such kindness that would have broken Bilbo’s heart if it weren’t already preoccupied with beating out of his chest. 

Bilbo could feel himself tense at one point, letting out an embarrassing mewl when Thorin brushed along that exquisite place inside of him. All of his nerves, it seemed, alighted with such intense pleasure, his muscles spasming and his lungs ready to burst. 

“Ah, your _mizim,_ ” the king whispered into his ear, making him blush even more. 

“My...my…” 

“Your jewel,” Thorin explained. He took great care to keep his hips angled so that he could stroke over it again. A great shudder coursed through Bilbo’s body, not having fully recovered from the last sensation, but he didn’t protest. Instead he wrapped an arm around the king’s neck and pulled him into a sloppy kiss full of teeth and tongue until all of his senses were completely overwhelmed. 

Bilbo’s humming, sweat-soaked and trembling body could barely handle the heavy weight of Thorin over him for much longer. Each of the king’s thrusts brought him closer to his peak, but no matter how much he pushed back his release was still out of reach. 

“Thorin,” he panted, forcing himself to look directly at him. He couldn’t form the words, not with his tongue so thick and his head in such a daze, but he didn’t have to. A moment later he felt a hand close around his length, and as Thorin murmured encouragements in his ear a loud shout was wrenched from his throat as waves of pleasure wracked his body. 

He would remember it as one of the most prolonged releases he would ever have, not a quick finish but one that seemed to go on for a few moments as Thorin continued to pound into him. He couldn’t catch his breath at first, his vision tunneling before he screwed his eyes shut. A series of ragged moans fell from his lips, mingling with the hard grunts above him until one long cry and a spurt of warmth coating his insides let him know that Thorin followed closely behind. Lips came down to lick and bite along his neck again as the king chased his own release, and Bilbo was wicked enough to clench his muscles even more to help extend it. 

Afterwards they lay panting, in somewhat of a daze for a time. Bilbo wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to walk again, and as the pleasure ebbed the soreness that took its place made him grateful that they wouldn’t be riding ponies anytime soon. It wasn’t unpleasant, though, and it _certainly_ sent a thrill through him that he was now bonded to Thorin in the most intimate of ways. 

“I do believe I am completely ruined,” he murmured. 

Thorin let out a breathy laugh before slowly pulling out, making Bilbo’s heart stutter. He didn’t much like the feeling of emptiness, but figured if they had stayed together any longer then they would have fallen asleep like that. 

_He would have been stuck fast to me come morning!_ Bilbo thought to himself with a giggle. 

“What are you laughing at, my _kurdu?_ ” Thorin asked with a smile. He brought a clean cloth over the hobbit’s backside, gently rubbing the oil away and making him sigh with relief. 

“Thank you,” Bilbo murmured. “I only thought of what it would be like if we were to fall asleep in such a compromising position.” 

“I imagine we would wake up glued together,” Thorin deadpanned. Bilbo snorted in a most undignified way, only causing the both of them to laugh even more as they settled in. Thorin brought the covers over them, still smiling as the hobbit curled against him and chuckled against his throat. 

“My thoughts exactly.” 

They fell silent after a while, Thorin holding Bilbo close while the hobbit listened to the sound of his strong heartbeat. It was only until he started to drift that he noticed something peculiar. 

“What are you doing?” he mumbled sleepily. The feeling of the king’s hands gently running through his hair soothed him, but he was curious when he sensed a repetitive motion. 

“In my culture, we put a special braid in the hair of the one we are courting to show others that they have been claimed.” 

“Hmm,” Bilbo smiled, “rather possessive.” 

“Is this news to you?” Thorin playfully tugged a lock of the honey brown hair, causing the hobbit to giggle. “It is tradition, one that the line of Durin happens to be fond of. This braid will show that you are being courted by a dwarf of that line, and of a future king." 

“You are a king,” the hobbit said softly, looking up at him. “You’re my king.” 

“And to me, my dearest Bilbo, that would truly be enough. You have stolen my heart and the hearts of my family. I am quite certain that, if you accept my proposal, Erebor will love you as well.” 

It was a pleasant thought to fall asleep to, despite the flicker of worry in the back of Bilbo’s tired mind. 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

The next day he would think more on it as he puffed his pipe on the porch of the house, mulling over every detail of the night before. Thorin had given him everything; his trust, dedication, and devotion were all laid bare for Bilbo to do with as he pleased, yet all he wanted to do was follow the king and stay by his side. He was given that chance, though, and now all he had to do was accept. If only it were so easy- 

“There you are, Mister Bilbo!” 

The hobbit jumped at the voice, coughing some of the smoke out of his lungs as Fíli took a seat beside him. 

“You gave me a fright, my lad,” he said lightly, smiling at the prince. 

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly. “Kíli and I were just heading over to the pub if you wanted to join us.” 

“Ah, well…” Bilbo thought about it for a moment, having just had breakfast after a lie in with Thorin before parting ways with the king. He wasn’t quite sure if he was up for another round with the company, but when he was about to say as much, he faltered at the expression on the lad’s face. “What?” 

Fíli scrunched his nose in a way that reminded Bilbo of his younger brother when he was thinking over something difficult, before stating, 

“You seem quite peculiar today, if you don’t mind me saying.” 

“Oh?” Bilbo chuckled. “Well, I suppose I just have a lot on my mind.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

The hobbit was again about to politely decline until one look into the lad’s kind blue eyes made him sigh. 

“You do realize your uncanny ability to make people talk using your eyes alone is going to come in handy when you take back your kingdom?” 

“I know, but Kíli is better,” he chuckled. 

“The both of you will have Erebor in the palm of your hands.” Bilbo gave another sigh before shaking his head and turning to Fíli completely. “I trust you, I really do, and I don’t necessarily want anyone else to know before I’ve truly decided. I don’t want Thorin to know I’ve told you either.” 

“What is it?” The prince became quite serious, brow furrowed as he leaned in. “You are right, you can trust me with anything.” 

“You won’t even tell Kíli?” 

“Not if you don’t want me to. Did Uncle do something? Is it about Smaug? I know you must be nervous-” 

“Easy, lad.” Bilbo pressed his hand against Fíli’s forearm, willing him to relax. “It’s not bad, it’s actually something quite lovely. Your uncle...well, he proposed to me, Fíli. He asked me to be his Consort.” 

“Oh!” Fíli’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes wide as his mouth curled into a smile. “He actually did it then?” 

“Yes, he...wait, what? What do you mean ‘he actually did it’?” 

“I mean, he didn’t say anything to anyone, but I as soon as I knew the two of you were together I figured you were his One. The next step is logical, really.” 

“I certainly didn’t see it coming,” Bilbo said. 

“You don’t have soul mates in your culture.” 

“No, we don’t.” 

“So you didn’t realize what you were getting yourself into.” He said it lightly, half jokingly, but Bilbo could see the truth in his words. “It caught you off your guard.” 

“That’s one way of putting it.” 

“And now you’re wondering if it will be worth it to leave your home for an entirely new one, to live among a completely different race alongside a king you’ve only met a few months ago.” 

“Add ‘mind-reader’ to your list of skills, then,” Bilbo chuckled. 

“I’m sure anyone would feel the same, even if it’s quite the unique circumstance. They’ll be singing songs about you soon enough.” They both laughed at this, Bilbo finding the very thought utterly ridiculous but most likely true. “I am very happy for you, Mister Bilbo,” Fíli said with a grin, wrapping his arms around the hobbit and hugging him close. Bilbo rested his head against his shoulder and let out another sigh. 

“It is wonderful, isn’t it? The strange thing is that I am not as anxious about it as I thought I would be. I love Thorin very much, truly, and even though I am absurdly horrid at politics I can picture myself standing beside him during an open court. Or sitting at his side during a heated discussion about the mines or taxes or whatever it is dwarven kings talk about with their advisors.” 

“You’re spot on for the most part,” Fíli chuckled. 

“The point is, I want to be beside him no matter what because with him...” Bilbo swallowed hard, feeling tears prick the back of his eyes. “With him, I'm a better hobbit than I ever thought I could be. I'm the hobbit Gandalf knew would be a good burglar for this quest, the one that would help Thorin take back his home." He sniffled, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and blowing his nose. “Sorry.” 

“I know what you mean,” Fíli said softly, “so there is no need to apologize.” 

“Hobbits don’t have soul mates like dwarves do, but what I feel when I just think about him comes very close. I shouldn't like to return home after all of this to a life he wouldn't be part of.” 

“Then don’t. 

The answer was so simple, both childish and incredibly bold that Bilbo couldn’t respond at first. 

“I...well,” he tried after a time, “I suppose I’ll have to see. I did tell him I wouldn’t take too long with my answer.” 

“Not to worry you overmuch, but we are about to face a dragon soon.” 

“Yes, I do thank you for reminding me,” Bilbo scoffed lightly, pinching his forearm until he laughed. 

“It’s true, though! I’m sure you wouldn’t want to go in and face Smaug without giving your answer. Think of how cruel that would be to Uncle.” 

“It would be, wouldn’t it? Oh dear.” He looked down, shaking his head once before tapping out his pipe. 

“Just make sure to tell him before you go in,” Fíli offered, his voice more kind. “I think that’s fair enough.” 

“None of this is fair, actually,” Bilbo said sadly. “We find out we’re both mad about each other at the most inopportune time. When each day could be our last, it almost seems silly to think about a marriage.” 

“Or it could be the hope you need to hang on to when all else fails you” the prince countered. “That same hope burns bright for me every day I wake up with Kíli beside me.” Fíli suddenly looked over his shoulder with a smile, and Bilbo followed his gaze to see Kíli walking towards them. “I think they were put into our lives to keep us strong. You just admitted as much to me, that Thorin makes you a better hobbit.” 

“I did...” 

“Well, I believe you. Do you believe yourself?” 

Bilbo would have gawked at him if Kíli hadn’t climbed up to them at that point, although he still felt himself in awe of Fíli. To be so sure of such a thing reminded Bilbo that even though he may have felt older, the lads were still ahead of him by a few decades. It seemed he could still stand to learn a thing or two from them. 

After politely declining to join them once again, his head still spinning with too many things, he made promises to meet up with them later for afternoon tea. When Kíli went off again, chatting up a passerby he seemed to be on good terms with, Fíli leaned down to gently kiss the top of Bilbo’s head.

“Whatever you decide please know that you will always be part of our family, as our Uncle. I love you, Bilbo.” 

“I love you too, my lad,” the hobbit sighed, smiling with tears in his eyes as the golden prince ran off to be with his brother. When he would look back on that day on the porch, he knew he had his dear Fíli to thank for coaxing him in the right direction. 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

The last day of their stay in Lake-town was filled with a familiar tension he remembered well, but he was also concerned with the fitful nights Thorin started to have during their second week in the town. It would be nothing compared to their final night, however. It brought to light what Thorin had said in the past about his sleeping patterns being interrupted now and then, but Bilbo knew that the twitching and grunting couldn’t have been normal for _anyone_ and that the terrifying thrashing about of the king could only be attributed to disturbances in his mind over the next part of their journey. 

That final night- after a particularly fast and needy coupling- Bilbo had dozed off only to wake a few hours later to loud groaning. 

“Thorin,” he mumbled, placing his hand on Thorin’s bicep. 

He was used to this by now and was about to put into practice the coaxing methods he used before to wake the troubled king, but try as he might he just wasn’t successful. Bilbo sat up, then, bleary-eyed and frowning as Thorin twitched more violently. The bed was starting to shake as his limbs moved about restlessly, as if he was fighting something or trying to get away from it. Bilbo never could get out of him what his nightmares had been about, although Thorin claimed he could only remember being unable to control whatever was happening in them. This time, however, was obviously very different. Judging by the heart wrenching sounds the mighty king was making, the low keening in his throat that increased to shouts had Bilbo covering his ears with the realization that something was terribly wrong. 

“Thorin!” he shouted this time, almost afraid to touch the king lest he thrash out with one of his strong limbs and harm Bilbo. 

The hobbit wasn’t too concerned with himself at the moment, but he knew Thorin would never forgive himself if he hurt Bilbo in any way. So instead of trying to jostle him awake, Bilbo started talking. He was comforting at first, almost pleading in the way he tried to lead Thorin out of his sleep, but as it went on he became quite short and stern with his words. This seemed to have the most effect on Thorin. His movements stilled for a moment, jerking every now and then, but as Bilbo commanded him to fight it, the king surprisingly obeyed. Bilbo waited until his movements stilled completely before swooping in to wrap his arms around him. 

“Wake up,” he said, much softer this time as he nuzzled his ear. “Please wake up. I’m here, and whatever you think is happening isn’t so please, just come back to me.” 

A great sob burst from Thorin’s lips, and his eyes fluttered open for a time before closing again. He murmured Bilbo’s name, pulled him closer to his sweat-soaked body, and fell back into his slumber. It was a bit uncomfortable for Bilbo since the dwarf was an absolute furnace, but he didn’t dare pull away. Instead he threw off the covers and dug his fingers into long, black hair until he was able to massage Thorin’s scalp in what he hoped was a soothing manner. Thorin didn’t stir for the rest of the night, though Bilbo found his own sleep fitful just from worrying about him so much. When dawn came at last, he hadn’t grabbed but a few hours, yet the untroubled look on Thorin’s face throughout the rest of the night was well worth it to him. 

The king woke soon after, shifting slightly and instinctively pulling Bilbo closer. One eye slid open, then the other, until he was slowly blinking at the hobbit. 

“Good morning,” he said, his voice hoarse. Bilbo figured it had to do with all his shouting. When Thorin stretched against him, his limbs flexing as his chest pressed against Bilbo’s, the hobbit couldn’t help but nuzzle into him more. 

“Are you okay?” he asked gently. At Thorin’s silence, he frowned and looked up only to realize he didn’t seem to remember what happened that night. “You had another nightmare.” 

“Did I?” 

Bilbo’s mouth flew open, but he just as quickly shut it.

“Yes,” he frowned, “it was quite violent.” 

“Did I hurt you?” Thorin looked concerned, but his brow cleared when Bilbo shook his head. 

“No, not at all I just...I can’t believe you don’t remember.” 

“I really don’t,” Thorin sighed, 

They didn't speak of it any more, instead opting to stay wrapped up in each other for a few more blessed moments before slowly getting up to pack their things. 

Later that day, alone in the room for the last time and making sure they didn’t forget anything, Bilbo's gaze was drawn to the lone wilted flower still sitting in the vase he once placed it in. Neither of them had the heart to throw it away, not even when the other flowers were tossed, and he felt a sadness stirring inside him. It was silly, perhaps, for it had been dying ever since it was picked from the earth, but to see the once bright blue flower now brown and crushed made all of the joy the once pretty thing brought fade to a mere memory. Now reality was allowed to take over once more and he wasn’t sure if his heart was willing to accept it. 

Once the company gathered all their supplies they set out rather quietly, the Master looking quite happy to see them go. He provided boats with rowers and once they bundled up against the cold winter morning they started their trip down LongLake. 

There was a light chatter among the company, but Bilbo's place at Thorin's side only confirmed to him the suspicious air about the king that had developed in the past few days surrounding the intentions of Bard and the Master. Fíli had eventually passed the “contract” back to his uncle, and still it remained unsigned in his pocket. How they had managed to leave the town at all without Thorin signing it or giving his word was beyond Bilbo, but he wasn’t about to question it. 

“He was no great ally of ours anyway,” the hobbit pointed out, referring to the Master. “I don’t even think he believed you up until now.” 

“Yet he will still expect our gold once we are through.”

“Of course he will. He housed us for two weeks and gave us supplies.” 

“He and his men still call us fools behind our backs.”

“Better to be called a fool and given a bed then to be prevented from completing the task altogether. They could have imprisoned us like the elves, and I shudder to think what will happen to them if we rouse Smaug out of the mountain and he directs his ire towards them. Bard was right-” 

“You agree with him.” Something fierce flashed in the king’s eyes, startling Bilbo for a moment. 

“I...well, in that regard yes, but it doesn’t mean I think we shouldn’t continue on. We’ve made it this far and by now I would hope you know that I understand how important this quest is to you. I’m only saying that it is no longer dangerous just for us but for the people in that town as well.” He hesitated, looking down. “I thought that as your future Consort I would be allowed to voice my opinion. Perhaps I am wrong in my assumptions.” 

“You are not mistaken,” Thorin murmured. Still the kindness Bilbo was used to did not return to his eyes, and he watched as he returned his gaze to the mountain ahead. 

Swallowing hard, the hobbit forced himself to look up at the peak as well. It seemed strange that its silent presence that loomed so threatening over him could earn such a look of reverence from Thorin. Then again, Bilbo would be the first one to enter it. Whether or not he would meet his end upon doing so hung in the delicate balance that was now his life, and still he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally wrote a long one again. Oops! That really wasn't the plan, but it kind of got away from me. Writing this is a nice escape from the hell of university work, so definitely expect another update in a month or so. This one was very light and happy, but most of you know what comes next. You have my continued gratitude for sticking with this story, and I hope you see it through to the next parts because even though sadness is to come, I don't do character death. If I did I would have warned you in the beginning, but just so we're clear. I like happily ever afters. Well, at least "everybody lives" ever afters ;)
> 
> \- - -
> 
>  
> 
> Khuzdul-English translations: http://www.scribd.com/doc/98387422/Khuzdul-Dictionary-E-K-v01-JUN12
> 
> kurdel- heart of all hearts
> 
> mizim- jewel
> 
> nadadith- brother that is young
> 
> khuzdith- dwarf that is young
> 
> Italicized song lyrics belong to Tolkien and are excerpts from the song in the chapter “A Warm Welcome.”
> 
> The “Fishes of Middle Earth” is a wonderful read and a reference I used to figure out the types of fish that could conceivably be found in Long Lake. Scroll all the way down for the pdf:
> 
> https://sites.google.com/a/fieldmuseum.org/pwillink/
> 
>  
> 
> Food porn:
> 
> Mushroom-smothered trout  
> http://www.yummly.com/recipe/Mushroom-smothered-trout-349344?columns=4&position=10%2F69
> 
> Dutch sugar loaf (Or “sûkerbôle.” It looks like it’s in Khuzdul ;p)  
>  http://honestcooking.com/dutch-sugar-loaf-recipe/


	5. Coming Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company meets their journey’s end when they come upon the Lonely Mountain at last. Bilbo’s strength is tested once more as his role as burglar is put to the final test, but when he notices a certain change starting to come over Thorin, he realizes the dragon may not be his only fierce obstacle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a slightly overbearing/possessive Thorin, and one point of dubious consent that is short lived. I wasn't even going to put a warning about it, but I'd much rather overdo the warnings with something like that.
> 
> Many continued thanks and love to my beta/sanity, cakelydemise, who helped with the title of this chapter. Title is inspired by the poem Coming Thunder by Raymond A. Foss

Bilbo felt as if two days were much too long to travel in a boat, and by the third day he was more than anxious to plant his feet on firm, dry land once more. Any hobbit would agree that time spent in a boat should be minimal, if they were to even step foot in one at all! They were not known for their love of water or their ability to swim. This particular hobbit was brave, that much was certain, yet he knew he would sink like a stone if anything were to happen to their transport along the way. Once he was properly delirious from the rocking of the boat and the stink of lake water, his mind filled with images of orcs lining the shores shooting arrows at them, sinking their vessel and causing them to jump into the lake. 

“Are we nearly there?” Bilbo finally spoke up. 

He sat in his usual spot, squeezed between Kíli and Bofur, but by this time he had quite enough of feeling like a piece of loose cargo travelling alongside silent, brooding companions. They all grew weary of the water, for dwarves did not belong in boats either, although the company almost certainly would have complained had they been earlier along in their travels. As it was, none spoke above a whisper and the only one who dared to question the men from time to time was Thorin. Yet even he seemed complacent enough to return his unerring gaze back to the mountain once his inquiries were satisfied. 

“We will reach land by mid-afternoon,” one man answered him, not unkindly. He was young, and the only one Bilbo knew by name.

“Thank you, Master Carnyc,” he said quietly, breathing out a sigh of relief as he looked down once more. 

“Almost there, Mister Bilbo.” The hobbit felt Kíli nudge him, and he couldn’t help but smile. “We’ll be in Erebor before you know it!” 

“Let’s just make it to land first,” he chuckled. 

“Not that these men haven’t been helpful,” Bofur added with a whisper, “but I’ll sure be glad when we part ways. Don’t think they trust us as far as they could throw us.” 

“It’s still nice of them to take time to escort us.” 

“Aye, but if we weren’t promised a safe passage I’d just as soon take my chances in the water, the way they’ve been glaring at us and all.” 

“Fíli said the same thing to me yesterday,” Kíli said, brow furrowed. “I think the both of you are paranoid.” 

“You’ve been sleepin’ the whole time!” 

“Ssh!” Bilbo admonished. “Although it is true, Kíli, they don’t seem very happy with us.”

“But if they didn’t want to help us, why wouldn’t they just ditch us once we left Lake-town?”

“They have their orders from the Master, and it wouldn’t do them well to treat a company of armed dwarves poorly. They’re just wary of what we intend to do once we reach the mountain.”

Kíli considered this while Bilbo marveled at the innocence of youth but then, as the two princes always seemed to do, he was surprised at the way the lad accepted it with a shrug.

“Makes sense,” he stated simply, standing up and stretching his arms high above his head with a groan. “As long as they get us to shore soon, you won’t hear me complain.”

Bilbo shook his head, watching as Kíli nodded politely to Carnyc before making his way over to his brother.

“Honestly,” he sighed.

“They learned a lot about the way of the world in Ered Luin,” Bofur commented, “but this is the first time they’ve been able to see it.” Bilbo wasn’t sure why, but he felt surprised at this. When he expressed as much to his friend, he was met with a laugh. “Aye, they’ve been trained well, but I think you out of all of us can understand the most. If I’d of lived and grown in one place my whole life without seeing much of the world, no matter how good I was with a sword I wouldn’t know how to act around races other than my own, or even what to think of them. The world’s different once yer properly in it. Sometimes things you weren’t even looking for have a way of showin’ up.”

“That’s certainly true,” Bilbo said quietly. He was silent with his own thoughts for a moment, then frowned at how philosophical his friend had become. “Wait, you…what are you smirking at?”

“You think I wouldn’t notice a dwarven courting braid in my own friend’s hair?” Bofur tsked and shook his head. “Have we grown so apart these last few days?”

“What− no! Of course not...oh, you’re having me on!” The hobbit crossed his arms, flustered and blushing as the dwarf cackled beside him. “Yes, that’s all very funny,” he mumbled, trying to keep a smile from curling at his own lips. “I wonder if any of the others have noticed?”

“It’s a bit hidden in that curly mop,” Bofur said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Bilbo shook his head at his ridiculous friend. “Some just aren’t observant, but I bet the moment that young prince notices the rest of the company’ll know.”

“I guess I’m glad I’ve been sitting in a way that he can’t see it.” Not that he didn’t want the lad to know, quite the contrary, but he just wasn’t sure if he was ready for such a big deal to be made out of it.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Bofur said wisely. There was still a gleam in his eyes that made Bilbo huff.

“Out with it, then.”

“You’ve accepted, right?”

“Not yet, and I _know_ I need to do it soon, I just...I just don’t−”

“Don’t work yourself up, it was only a question.” His friend nudged his shoulder playfully, calming him down enough to take a deep breath. “I admire you, I really do. Even thinking about it works my nerves into a bundle, but considering a betrothal to a king _while_ going in to face a great fire-breathing monster−”

“Not helping,” Bilbo said shortly, glad for the fact that he was sitting. For as much as he loved his friend, Bofur truly had no sense of when his words were scaring the confidence right out of him.

“Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly. “Still, I hope you say yes. I wouldn’t know what to do if you left us to go back to your comfy home after all of this.” Bilbo blushed again. “It’s the truth. I’ve never been to Erebor, but I imagine any kingdom could use a hobbit.” Before Bilbo could express his gratitude, however, Bofur was nudging him again and winking. “Would certainly do our king some good to have someone relieve his tension.” 

“You have no shame,” Bilbo scoffed, nudging back hard with his shoulder. His friend only let out a peal of laughter, causing him to join in and the men to look down at them with bemusement. 

Bilbo’s mood, despite his continued embarrassment at the hands of the relentless Bofur, increased quite a bit, and even more as they finally reached their destination. They were led off the boat and, to their surprise, came upon a handful of ponies that were offered to them.                             

“We don’t have fourteen to spare,” one of the men said. “Some of you will have to share.” 

“It is more than we could ask for,” Balin said politely. Bilbo watched as he nudged Thorin, who grunted and inclined his head. 

“We thank you for your assistance,” the king agreed. 

The men didn’t have much to say, murmuring their half-hearted well wishes before setting sail again. They seemed eager to leave the company, although Bilbo’s spirits were lifted considerably when Carync waved to him. He had grown fond of the men and their town, and despite their differences he understood their suspicions. Still, he hoped that once they completed their journey the outcome would be one that benefitted both Erebor and Lake-town. 

The company focused their efforts on preparing the ponies for the trip ahead, oddly quiet and somewhat subdued. Just as Bilbo was about to ask Bofur what all the long faces were about, he heard his name being called.

“Bilbo.”

“Hmm?” He looked over, watching as Thorin climbed onto a pony and beckoned him over. Leaving his friend, the hobbit wandered over to the king. “How long will it take us to reach the mountain?” he wondered, giving the pony’s neck a pat. 

“We travel until nightfall, which will come in only a few hours.” Bilbo grasped Thorin’s offered hand, settling in the saddle and leaning back against his chest with a sigh. “The ponies will shorten our journey, but we will still reach our destination by tomorrow evening.” 

“One more night,” Bilbo mused. Thorin nudged the pony forward, and despite the gloomy silence of the company around them, Bilbo suddenly felt quite inspired. “Can I look at the map?” He felt Thorin tense, but soon the king was rifling through his inner breast pocket. 

“Be careful,” he said, his arm circling in front of Bilbo and holding the map out. 

“I will,” the hobbit promised. He smiled when a warm hand was placed on his belly, keeping him steady as he held the important document with both hands. 

As they travelled along Bilbo grew increasingly interested in not only the map, but of the area around Erebor as well. He knew that Smaug caused major destruction to the land, and even as he glanced up at their surroundings every so often he could see not much had grown back. It was a charred wasteland bereft of life, both green and sentient. He was honestly surprised at this and when he expressed as much to Thorin, the king only sighed.

“There were many trees here, and enough wildlife to keep Erebor and the city of Dale fed year round.”

“But why hasn’t it grown back?”

When his answer was only for Thorin to pull him closer, he began to grow quite suspicious of what would prevent a land from returning to its natural state. He would have blamed the fact that there was no one there to tend to it, but he knew that at least trees and wild flowers would grow without prompting. The land was sick, he realized, and something wouldn't allow it to heal.

They travelled on in silence, though Bilbo tried to cheer himself up by thinking of how he could do his part to return the land to its former glory once Thorin reclaimed the mountain. He thought back to his garden at home, missing the way he would go out every morning to tend to it. If Hamfast was out (which was almost always) they would converse about the state of the crop and the weather. It had always been a pleasant start to his morning. As he studied the map, he could just picture the look on his neighbor’s face at the vast land and its potential. Only he would know right where to start. Bilbo, however, would need all the help he could get. He doubted the dwarves knew much about growing crops outside of the mountain, but the men were most likely the ones to see to those matters. Still, he would have liked to offer his help wherever he could.

_Especially if it is to be my home,_ he thought. He was almost certain of his answer by this point, yet something still kept him from committing to it. Still, when he thought about life in this land (once it was green again, of course) and life under the mountain with his new family, excitement curled low in his belly. He knew it was where he belonged.

With a sigh, he carefully folded up the map and placed it safely in his pocket. It was becoming too dark to read it and he wondered if they should stop soon. When he voiced his concern, Thorin agreed and turned to tell the company they would take their rest for the night.

“Will we be safe here?” Bilbo looked around with a frown. He wasn’t terribly keen on being so out in the open with nothing to shelter them from anything that might come by. 

“We have no choice.” Once they climbed off of the pony, Thorin put a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “I assure you there is nothing to fear tonight. There is no food or shelter on this land to sustain any wild creature, nor would any man have reason to pass through. We will be safe.” 

Bilbo nodded and although there was no mention of the orcs that were still tracking them, he knew he could trust the king’s judgment. Thorin smiled kindly and gently squeezed his shoulder before turning to the rest of the company. Bilbo busied himself with tending to the pony, taking some of the heavier bags off and running his fingers through his dark mane. 

“Good boy,” he murmured. He sadly wondered what would become of these ponies if Smaug was indeed inside the mountain, although a dragon would cause destruction to any living thing within a good distance of its fire. It wouldn’t matter if they were right next to him or miles away. The hobbit shivered at the thought, to which the pony softly nickered. “You can say that again,” he murmured. 

“There ya are!” Bilbo felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to find Bofur. “The lads are trying to get a fire going.” 

“How?” the hobbit snorted. “There’s hardly any kindling.” 

“We’ve found some twigs here and there. Come on, the more eyes the better and yours are the sharpest.” 

They scanned the ground together and much to Bilbo’s surprise there did in fact appear to be old remnants of the trees that once stood scattered about. The pieces weren’t terribly big, and he wondered just how long their fire would burn for, but it was reassuring to know they would at least have a hot meal that cold night. 

“Why has the company been so quiet lately?” Bilbo found himself wondering after a while. 

“Things are getting a bit real for some of ‘em,” his friend shrugged. “I think resting in that town for a bit made some of ‘em lazy, then seeing the mountain again brought it all back.” 

“That makes sense. I thought some of them were starting to regret their decision to join Thorin.”

“No, not a one. Remember dwarves don’t make light on their promises,” he winked. 

“Oh, I know that.” 

Eventually they all came back together to start a decent sized fire, making quick work of roasting the sausages the men gave them before it dwindled back down to embers. As he sat next to Bofur, savoring his warm meal, Bilbo felt a desire for the company to break out in song or to shout at each other over something, _anything_ to let him know that they were still the company he came to know and love. Bofur’s words helped reassure him and he knew he was perseverating, but he just hoped they would come out of this victorious so they could all return to normal. He’d much rather have them throwing food about than speaking in hushed, nervous tones. It was unnatural. 

“There you go worrying again,” Bofur nudged him, jostling him out of his thoughts. “Get some sleep, you’ll feel better for it in the morning. Plus I’m sure there’s a king somewhere waitin’ for his hobbit to warm his bedroll.” 

“Ssh!” he scolded, looking around at the others. “If no one else actually figures it out by the time I make a decision, I’ll be amazed. Your discretion is sorely lacking, my friend.” 

Bofur only cackled at this, giving him a gentle push so he would stand. 

“I was never known for it to begin with. G’night, Bilbo.” 

The hobbit muttered his good nights, shaking his head. As he passed Fíli and Kíli, he gave both a pat on the head as they hugged him from where they sat, lightly suggesting they get to sleep as well. 

“Few more minutes,” Kíli murmured into his stomach. 

“Only a few, then,” he finalized, “you’ll need your strength for the morning. Good night, my lads.” He smiled at their sleepy ‘good nights’ and made his way back over to his pack. Just as he retrieved both his and Thorin’s bedroll, he caught a shadow out of the corner of his eye and quickly stood. “Oh,” he breathed, shaking his head once he realized who it was. “You gave me a fright, Thorin.” 

“My apologies.” 

Bilbo shook his head, smiling as he crouched once more, setting up both of their bedding. 

“Did you eat?” he wondered. “I didn’t see you by the fire.” 

“I did,” Thorin rumbled, then added after a pause, “I noticed you speak with Bofur often.” 

“We’ve become quite good friends,” Bilbo nodded. “He’s a good dwarf. I can see why you brought him along, although he never did tell me how the two of you know each other.” He sat on his bedroll with a sigh, looking up at the king. The darkness made it difficult to read his expression, but he was almost certainly frowning. “Thorin?” 

“You enjoy his company." 

“Uhm, yes? In a...friendly sort of way.” Bilbo really wasn’t sure what was going through Thorin’s head. He knew the king wasn’t the best communicator at times, but he seemed distant in that moment. “Sit with me,” the hobbit said gently, “please?” 

“And what do you mean by friendly?” Thorin continued, sitting on his bedroll with a grunt. “One can be friendly with another, but they can also be friendly in intimate ways.” 

“You’re speaking in riddles,” Bilbo lightly chided. “I thought Gandalf left us long ago. What are you trying to say?”

“You remained by his side the entire time on that boat.” The king’s voice was tight and Bilbo knew this was no joking matter. Whatever Thorin was thinking, or accusing, he was clearly serious. 

“There was not much space,” the hobbit said gently. “I think we all established where we would sit early on in order to maintain some sort of order.” 

“So you chose to stay beside him inside of at the bow with me.” 

“Again, there wasn’t much room.” Bilbo could hardly believe they were having this conversation, but he did his best to remain open to Thorin’s obvious upset. “Perhaps it is a poor excuse, but I noticed your attention was on the mountain the entire time. You hardly spoke to me,” he added carefully, “and I did not wish to disrupt the first time you were able to see your home in quite some time. I apologize.” Though he did not know what he apologized for. 

“I still wish for you to remain beside me.” 

“Of course I will, but do you mean for me to not even talk to the friends I've made on this journey?” Something finally occurred to Bilbo, though he hoped he was mistaken. “Do you fear that I am being unfaithful to you?” 

“I know nothing of the customs of hobbits, but when dwarves only take one partner for life−”

“Yes I know that,” he said hastily, his heart starting to pound hard. “You explained to me that I am your One. You must know that hobbits value that as well, unless there are special circumstances where say a party of three reaches a certain agreement, but that is not us.” He leaned forward onto his knees and took one of Thorin’s hands into his own. “It’s just me, you, and the courting braid in my hair. No one else. I promise.” Bilbo squeezed his hand, looking down as an array of feelings washed over him. “Thorin,” he whispered. He felt slightly nauseous, troubled that Thorin would question his faithfulness yet quickly deciding that his next words would be the ones to prove where he stood. “I wanted to tell you that I−" 

“Do you have the map?” the king wondered.

“Uh, what?” Bilbo blinked, shaking his head and unable to process the question at first, but when he realized what Thorin asked he scrambled to find his words again. “Y-Yes, I do.”

“May I have it?” Thorin held out his hand, and with no small amount of frustration Bilbo took the parchment out of his pocket and gave it to him.

He felt utterly deflated at first, watching as Thorin’s attention went back to his father’s map, but he soon came to the conclusion that he shouldn’t have been so hasty in attempting to declare his decision of being the king’s Consort. Of course Thorin would be distracted. They were a day away from the mountain, but once they reached the hidden door there were still many days to come before Durin’s Day came upon them. He would have his chance, keeping his promise that he would give his answer before going in to face the dragon. And so he waited patiently for Thorin to finish looking over the map again, telling himself he needed to be there for the king during this difficult time even if sacrifices had to be made.

He almost dozed off despite sitting upright, and he only knew this by the warm hand in his hair bringing him back to full consciousness.

“You should sleep,” Thorin murmured.

“Mmm.” He opened his eyes, smiling sleepily up at the king. “I was waiting for you to come back to me.” When Thorin seemed confused at this, Bilbo only shook his head. “Come, we’ll look over it again in the morning. You need sleep too.”

Thorin hesitated but eventually gave into Bilbo’s gentle tug to curl up with him on their bedrolls. Satisfied, the hobbit made sure they were properly covered against the cold night air before settling against his lover’s warm chest.

“You were going to tell me something,” Thorin said softly after a time. Perhaps it was due to the haze of Bilbo’s tired mind, but he had a fleeting thought that the king had sounded more like himself in that moment.

“It’s not important right now,” he reassured him, leaning up to kiss his jaw. “We have a big day ahead of us.”

“Indeed.”

Bilbo sighed happily when Thorin buried his nose in his curly hair, just the way he liked, before his breathing finally steadied.

“Good night, Thorin.”

“Good night, my _kurdu._ ”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

The wind whipped around them, cold and unforgiving as they stood shoulder to shoulder along the ledge overlooking what was once the front gate of Erebor.

“Well, would you look at that,” Bofur whistled.

Bilbo swallowed hard, glancing over at his friend before once again considering the steam billowing out of the gate. Thorin had been right when he said they would reach it by the next evening, but the remaining daylight allowed them a decent look at the land around them. They had come upon the ruins of Dale, paying their respects before moving onto the gate, and fell to complete silence when they realized what lay in front of them. The silence was reverent and heavy with emotion for some, while for others all of the stories had once been told were finally coming to life.

And for Bilbo, who couldn’t seem to look away from the gate for too long, it meant that all was not so quiet in the mountain as he had once hoped.

“Bother it all,” he murmured.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Bofur, I...nothing.”

Thorin’s voice broke through the quiet, instructing them to set up camp and bringing them out of their reverie. They moved about speaking in hushed tones, if at all, and soon enough they had settled in for another unremarkable night. Bilbo was thankful for the quiet as he snuggled into his bedroll, though. He hardly had any time at all to think about the dragon before he drifted off to a dreamless sleep, and when he awoke to the dawn’s early light glowing around the mountain he was quite pleased to find Thorin’s arms wrapped tight around him.

“You’re awake,” the king mumbled.

“Mmm.” Bilbo nodded, pressing back into his warmth. “I have to say, I’ve grown quite accustomed to sleeping under the stars.” When he was met with no response, he glanced over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows when he found Thorin staring back at him. “What are you thinking?”

“I want you to go with Fíli and Kíli along the western slopes,” he said, “in search for the hidden door. The three of you have the best eyes out of all of us, with the exception of Ori, and it is my hope that you will find the door quicker than if all of us were to go up together.”

“Okay,” Bilbo said quietly. “You don’t wish to come along with us?"

“I plan on scouting along the foothills with the rest of the company. If I remember correctly the paths are narrow, dangerously so. It will be difficult enough once you find it for us all to climb up. Some may even have to stay behind if we choose to set up camp in front of the door.”

“I think once we find it we should do just that.”

“Then we are in agreement,” Thorin nodded. Bilbo sighed, turning so that he could kiss the king’s lips.

“When do we start?”

Once the entire company was up, they quickly broke their fast on mouthfuls of cram as Thorin explained the plan. Both princes accepted their task with ease, although Bilbo could tell they fought hard to contain their excitement over having a chance to prove themselves once again. They set off with high spirits shortly after, just the three of them consulting one of Ori’s makeshift maps he sketched the night before while traipsing up the mountainside. It was a good long while before they found a decent enough path to follow, although it eventually led them to a very frustrating dead end that had them retracing their steps almost all the way back to where they started.

Bilbo sighed once they stopped to consult the map again, shaking his head but biting his tongue before voicing his growing concern. The map wasn’t much help since it didn’t have much detail, but Fíli and Kíli seemed adamant about pouring over it from time to time.

_Then again,_ Bilbo reasoned, _dwarves do have stone-sense._ He wasn’t sure how adept they were, if they were trained to hone their skills with stone or if the map aided in such intuitions, but he figured they were much better than he was at finding their way around a mountain.

Finally, after quite some time, they found a path that led them to at least the general area of where they needed to be. It took only about another half hour of searching for Bilbo to finally cave to the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“I don’t think it’s here, my lads,” he huffed. He also wasn’t terribly fond of the uneven terrain and the narrow ledges, fearing for his and the princes’ lives on too many occasions when they lost their footing.

“We can’t go back to Uncle empty-handed,” Fíli said. “We just need to look harder. It’s on the map, anyway, right in this area. There must be something _._ ”

“We’ve looked I don’t know how many times.” Bilbo leaned against the stone, running his hand over the rocky surface. “Everything looks the same and it could truly be anywhere. It’s a _hidden door!_ ”

“We just have to try harder.” The golden prince looked around as if trying desperately to find anything they had overlooked, but when his gaze fell back on his brother he stopped and tilted his head to the side. “What is it, _nadad?_ ”

Kíli was frowning, as if ruminating over something he wasn’t quite sure of, but in the next moment Bilbo was squawking as he was suddenly engulfed in a tight hug.

“I _knew_ it! Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Kíli, what−”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice it sooner!” Kíli pulled back just enough so that he could gently play with the braid in Bilbo’s hair. “Did you know, Fee?”

Fíli winked at Bilbo from behind Kíli, coming over and making a show of examining the braid.

“Well, it’s the first time I’ve seen it.” Which wasn’t a lie, necessarily, for he hadn’t commented on the braid before.

“It _is_ Uncle, right?” Kíli asked, brown eyes wide.

“Who else would it be?” Bilbo said, feeling his cheeks warm. Kíli let out a happy shout before reaching back to pull Fíli into a threeway hug, causing the hobbit to laugh and the older prince to chuckle.

“Easy now, Kee, we don’t want to break our new uncle!”

“Does the rest of the company know?” Kíli wondered, resting his forehead lightly against Bilbo’s. The hobbit’s breath caught in his throat at the prince’s action, knowing that it was an intimate act in dwarven culture shared only between families and lovers. The ease in which the lad accepted him as part of his family made his heart soar.

“Not yet,” he said. “Only the two of you and Bofur.”

“We can tell them when we get back!”

“I think we should tell them when Bilbo is ready, _nadad,_ ” Fíli said softly. Kíli looked over at his brother, but a silent understanding passed between them and he soon nodded.

“Right. Well, in any case,” he gazed back down at Bilbo, pure joy shining in his eyes, “I’m really happy for you. Did he say you were his One?”

"He did."

"I _told_ you, Fee!"

Kíli chattered a bit more, improving all of their moods, but it was when Fíli wandered off and had an idea that would change everything that their day started to look up.

“Kee, do you have that axe Uncle gave you?”

Bilbo watched with wide eyes as Fíli hacked at a bit of loose stone, hope starting to return when the prince’s work revealed a very narrow continuation of the path.

“Well done!” he cheered. They made quick work of following it, then, until they emerged on a ledge with a wall that looked suspiciously like it was hiding something.

“This is where it should be,” Fíli said, pointing on the map. “In fact, I’m quite sure of it.”

Bilbo went over to the wall, placing his hand against the smooth stone and nodding once.

“I think you’re right, my lad. If only I knew your secrets,” he added under his breath, giving a slight push to no avail. “You are certainly not like any other door I’ve come across.”

“It’s our camp!” Kíli shouted. Surprised, Bilbo looked to where he pointed and was relieved to see the tiny dots of their packs and bedrolls. A few of the company members were there as well, standing guard while the others explored. “I should go back to tell Uncle,” Kíli continued. Bilbo turned back to him to see him practically vibrating with excitement.

“Will you be okay by yourself?” the hobbit wondered.

“Of course, it’ll be much easier on the way down.”

“That way one of us doesn’t have to stay here alone either,” Fíli agreed, wrapping an arm around his brother in a quick hug. “Be careful. Take it slow, and give a shout if you need anything.”

Kíli nodded, pecking his brother on the cheek and winking at Bilbo before taking off again. The hobbit sighed, taking a seat on a boulder and listening until he could no longer hear the younger prince’s footsteps.

“Well, we did it,” he said weakly. Fíli took a seat next to him, leaning against his shoulder and letting out a sigh of his own.

“We certainly did.” A moment of comfortable silence passed between them before Fíli murmured, “Kíli thinks you accepted, by the way.” He merely shrugged when Bilbo glanced over at him. “Just so you know.”

“But doesn’t he know that it’s just a courting braid?”

“Uncle may have gotten a bit ahead of himself. Usually we wait until our intended has accepted before braiding their hair, although if you do accept that may be when he has decided to place the bead with the braid.” He frowned. “Although there are variations different dwarves may choose. Forgive me, it’s been a while since Kíli and I performed the ritual, and we were in quite a rush to do it.”

“When did you marry, then?”

Fíli smiled sadly. “Our ceremonies are more complex and depend on the couple. If you accept Thorin’s proposal, the Consort ceremony will be performed since that will be your title. My father’s marriage to my mother was similar since she is royalty and he was a miner, and it would be different still for two commonfolk depending on whether or not their intended is their One. Despite all of these, no ceremony exists between two brothers.”

“But you are each other’s Ones!”

“And that is respected, but for us to marry he will have to be my Consort should I come to rule Erebor after Thorin.”

“You still courted, though.”

“We knew we were each other’s Ones before either of us came of age,” Fíli chuckled. “We waited until we both reached our adulthoods before giving each other our beads and braids. Uncle said a few kind words, mother made our favorite foods, and we were left to seal the deal, so to speak.”

Bilbo blushed, but he was intrigued. They were his adopted nephews, after all, and he took great interest in knowing all about them.

“Do you wish you would have been able to marry?”

“I thank Mahal every day that I can be with my brother in any way that I desire, and that he is of the same mind. We will marry if I become king, but I am content without a ceremony for now.”

“Don’t say ‘if’,” Bilbo said quietly. Fíli looked at him questioningly. “You will succeed Thorin when the time comes, of that I am certain.”

“Surely you know that the steam we saw means the dragon lies in this mountain.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean we’ll meet our end.”

"It does mean that some of us would do well to make certain decisions." The golden prince gave him a knowing look, to which Bilbo sighed.

"He’s very distracted lately. It's been difficult to talk to him. I understand why," he added quickly, "but it doesn't make it easy to announce such an important decision."

"He has a lot on his mind." Fíli frowned and looked as though he was about to say something else, but soon shook his head. "I'm sure the time will come. We have a while yet."

“How much longer do you think?”

“It’s hard to tell. Perhaps a week, give or take a few days.”

_That’s not very long at all,_ Bilbo thought, chewing his bottom lip. He sat there ruminating over the many ways he could take Thorin aside when he wasn’t too busy and tell him his answer. He didn’t have long, however, for as quickly as Kíli left he was back up soon after with other members of the company including Thorin. Bilbo instantly stood, smiling brightly and blushing as the king nodded to him.

“Are you certain this is it?” he asked, walking over to him.

“It’s the wall, Uncle,” Fíli said. “It has us quite convinced.”

“He’s right,” Bilbo agreed. A frown tugged at Thorin’s lips as he turned to the unblemished stone, concentrating as he placed both of his palms against it. His eyes slipped closed as he murmured something in a low tone. Bilbo shivered both from a passing breeze and from the look of pure adoration overcoming his lover’s face. He had been on the receiving end of that very look a few times before, and even if he didn’t understand the king’s deep love for the mountain he could surely understand how it made him feel. Thorin turned to him then, as if sensing his thoughts, and smiled.

“We make our final camp here.”

The ledge afforded them a way of pulling up some of their heavier supplies from the ground below, a process that also helped them pass the time as they waited for Durin’s Day to come. The company was cheery in the beginning although when Bilbo noticed they weren’t all going to stay on the ledge as one, he grew concerned.

“Not all of us can fit,” Thorin explained to him. “Bombur refused to come up, while Bofur and some of the others have volunteered to stay down.”

“I know we all won’t fit, but will they be okay down there?” Bilbo didn’t like the look he was afforded after asking this, knowing how Thorin felt about his concern for his friend, but before he could stand up for himself the king nodded.

“They will. There is nothing that will disturb them, and we are able to see them just fine. When we set up a watch I will make sure we all know to stay by the ledge overlooking them.”

“Okay,” Bilbo sighed, “that’s all I wanted to know.”

Thorin nodded distractedly before walking off to stand by the wall once again. At first Bilbo could understand his need for being as close to the inside of the mountain as he could manage, but as the days went on he grew more concerned for his lover than his friends down below.

On yet another day of waiting around, Bilbo watched Thorin pace back and forth from where he sat between Fíli and Kíli. The princes had been overly protective of him ever since they set up camp, staying close by him except to consult with their uncle when summoned. One particular time had Thorin exchanging heated words with Fíli in Khuzdul, and Bilbo worried himself sick over the look of distress on the golden prince’s face. Fíli assured him afterwards that it was nothing to concern himself with, smiling and trying to take the hobbit’s mind off of it, but Bilbo knew by now that the prince’s eyes always gave away his true feelings. He was thankful that Kíli was still off tending to private matters during that time, though, convinced that the lad would insist on confronting Thorin about upsetting his brother even if he would have been shaking in his boots while doing so. If Fíli was practically glued to his side after that then Bilbo didn’t mention it at all, thankful for the company while Thorin distanced himself from everyone. There was a fear tugging insistently on his heart, however, and he knew it wasn’t just from his imminent task of facing a dragon.

Kíli let out a sigh from beside him, breaking him from his thoughts and making him look over. The lad’s brown eyes rested on his uncle, following his pacing with a slight frown.

“He should be spending time with you,” he murmured. “I would think he would want to be with you before sending you in to face a dragon.”

“He has a lot on his mind,” Bilbo said halfheartedly, although he agreed. He understood now that Thorin achieved one of his major goals he would hang onto it, yet the hobbit was _terrified_ at the moment and really could have used his company.

_It’s the barrels all over again,_ he thought. _I need him the most when he’s too focused on his pride._

“All I mean is that if Fíli was the one to go in there and face Smaug alone, I certainly wouldn’t be anywhere else but by his side.”

“You would go in with me, you numpty,” Fíli snorted, looking over at his brother. “As if you would pass up seeing a dragon in real life.”

“Well, if I _couldn’t_ go in with you,” Kíli retorted.

“You would find a way.”

“You’re not helping, Fee!”

Bilbo and Fíli laughed, making Kíli huff and pout until the older prince crawled behind Bilbo to wrap his arms around him and nuzzle into his neck.

“I only jest, my _sanbashk_ ,” he said sweetly, “of course you would stay with me. I would do the same for you.”

With a sigh, Kíli leaned back into his brother’s arms.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” he murmured.

Bilbo’s heart felt too large for his chest, smiling as the brothers found comfort in each other. He would only find such comfort from Thorin if he stayed awake long enough for the king to slip in beside him, the spell the door held over him broken for the night as he held Bilbo close and pressed his lips to the back of his neck. The hobbit would always sigh and turn in his arms, trying to focus on steel blue eyes as his own fluttered under the weight of his exhaustion. He promised himself that one night he would find the strength to talk to Thorin about his decision, but when he only had those nights to look forward to spending a short time with his lover, he didn’t want to waste it on talk. Or so he had himself convinced.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

After one too many days of sitting and waiting, all of them either feeling listless or ready to snap, it had finally happened. Durin’s Day came and with it the promise of the great stone door making itself accessible at last. Bilbo had been the one to notice a change when he was gazing across the Desolation towards the west, at first not paying much attention but then scrambling to his feet and hurrying over to the ledge.

“Thorin,” he gasped, blinking hard and making sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. “ _Look!_ ”

Just as the sun was setting, very faintly beside it stood the moon, hardly noticeable to those who weren’t looking for it. Thorin came to stand beside him, his steady presence calming the nervous excitement that was starting to overcome Bilbo. The hobbit let out a shaky breath, thankful for the warmth the others brought as they crowded around him.

"Is that it?" Dwalin mumbled.

"It certainly looks like it," Balin said.

"How do we know?"

“Hush,” Bilbo insisted. “Wait for it to…” He was distracted by a something small flitting by, and when he looked for it his eyes fell on a bird perched next to the flat stone surface.

In the next moment two things occurred; the thrush (he later learned) started pecking at the door like birds do when searching for worms in the ground and a beam of light travelled straight to the door, illuminating the keyhole right in the middle of the stone. It was one of the most mystifying things Bilbo had ever seen. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of it, and everyone else seemed entranced as well.

“We don’t have much time,” eventually came Balin’s voice of reason. “The key, Thorin.”

Bilbo watched as the king stepped forward, in awe of the glowing keyhole, and took the key from around his neck. He hesitated a small moment before fitting it into the slot, but let out a small noise of surprise when the key went in without any force and turned just as easily. The entire door shifted, and Bilbo feared for Thorin's safety as rocks came crumbling down. Once the king called on them to help him push, though, they were able to open it easily enough without anyone coming to any harm. They set a large stone in front of it for good measure, so it wouldn't close again after all their waiting, and they collectively stepped back until it was only Thorin who stood in the doorway.

"We did it," Ori breathed, breaking through the silence. "We actually did it."

There were cheers all around after that, pats on the back and great sighs of relief. Someone shouted down to the company below of their victory and happy shouts came back up in response. Bilbo found that he was quite pleased, despite what it meant for his own fate. To see the company returned to their jovial, rowdy state once more brought a lightness to his very heavy heart. Yet soon enough, as with all good things, they quieted down and started turning until _every_ eye was fixed on him. None spoke to him, although he could tell they were waiting for him to make his move.

"I guess it's finally time for me to play my part, isn't it?" he said, forcing his voice to at least sound happy. This earned him a few chuckles, although he couldn't help but notice a few frowns as well.

Fíli and Kíli looked uncertain, glancing at each other and back at him as if itching to say something, and he caught Ori looking down at his hands with his brow furrowed. It was the next voice that caught him completely off guard, however, and he would always look back on his initial shock with fondness,

"I wouldn't put it that way, burglar," Nori said, stepping forward to stand in front of Bilbo. "We'd have been troll food long ago if it wasn't for you." The company murmured in agreement, some looking at Nori as if he had sprouted a second head. "You're much more clever than you've ever given yourself credit for, and it would do you well to remember that before going in to face the dragon." Still careful to keep his distance, Nori inclined his head and slipped back among the others.

“Thank you,” he breathed, “I−” But he was shortly cut off by a crowd of dwarves surrounding him, patting him on the back and wishing him luck. Some voiced their agreement with Nori, that the hobbit had served them very well along their journey and they just knew he would succeed once more. He was stunned into silence by their kindness, murmuring his gratitude and promising he would come back alive. By the time the two princes wrapped him up in one big hug, he was blinking back tears.

“No need to worry, my lads,” he sighed, squeezing them tight.

“Promise you’ll be careful?” Kíli asked.

“Of course I will. I’ll be back before you know it!” It took everything Bilbo had to make his smile convincing, but soon enough they returned it before releasing him at last. With a sigh and a nod, he finally turned and walked over to where Thorin stood in the doorway.

Bilbo couldn’t help but notice how the king had remained silent while the company bid him good bye, and he wasn’t sure what to expect now that he faced him. Perhaps a plea that he not enter or a stubborn promise that Thorin would accompany him after all, but not a word passed from the dwarf king’s lips.

“Well,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. He felt both excitement and dread at the cool ring brushing against his palm like a whispered reminder. When Thorin didn’t respond, Bilbo bit his bottom lip and stared down at his feet, starting to feel awkward. “It’s not as if he’ll be able to see me, after all,” he said, “Smaug, I mean. I’ll be invisible and...safe. So no need to worry.” He nodded once, his own words restoring his strength. If Thorin was incapable of doing it, then he would just have to keep reassuring himself. He went to pass the dwarf, but was soon intercepted when Thorin suddenly stood before him and placed both hands on his shoulders. Bilbo swallowed hard. “What−”

“Please.”

The hobbit looked up and felt a lump in his throat. Thorin’s expression had changed from unnervingly blank to filled with emotion faster than Bilbo could even fathom. They were hugging in the next moment, both sighing into one another.

“Welcome back,” Bilbo found himself whispering.

“Do we need to go over the plan again?” Thorin asked, lips grazing his ear.

“Mmm, no. Like I said, I’ll be invisible and he won’t know any better.”

“At the first sign of trouble−”

Bilbo interrupted him with a laugh.

“If I ever turned away from the first sign of trouble, I would still be in Bag End leading a safe, comfortable life.” He was oddly cheered by the thought, looking up at Thorin and adding, “I would have never met you, or the lads, or any one of my new friends, and _certainly_ not any of the terrible or fascinating peoples and creatures that once only existed in my books and imagination. If I hold on to anything from my past life, it is that a Baggins never breaks a promise, and that a Took never lets down their loved ones. So no, I’m sorry Thorin, but I will not turn away. Not when I made you a promise.”

“Surely I don’t deserve you,” the king sighed, pressing his forehead to the hobbit’s.

“Well,” Bilbo blushed, “I’m yours.” And he knew then that he would be for a very long time. "This, uh, may not be the best time to accept your proposal." Thorin's eyes widened, almost comically so, and his lips parted slightly. "I should have done so earlier, but I can't go in there without letting you know."

"Bilbo, you don't have to−"

"No, I do. I really do." He leaned up until his lips were pressed firmly against the dwarf's once again. "I love you," he murmured, "and I accept the role as your Consort Under the Mountain should our quest succeed."

"It will." Thorin squeezed him tight until nearly all the breath left his lungs. "It _must._ "

"It better," Bilbo chuckled. "After all we've been through."

“Just…” Thorin faltered, pulling away and looking down at him. “Come back to me.”

“I will.” Bilbo smiled sadly, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. Thorin let out a ragged breath, kissing him once more before turning to face the mouth of the tunnel.

“If only I could join you.”

“I’ll go in with him, laddie.” Startled, Bilbo looked over to find Balin standing by their side, smiling knowingly. He had a sneaking suspicion the dwarf had been eavesdropping and knew the entire company would hear of his betrothal to Thorin soon enough. “Even if I can only spare him a short while.”

Thorin looked as though he were about to protest, but Bilbo was surprised when he nodded at his old friend.

“If I were to go I would not leave him,” he admitted, “and my scent would destroy our plan. Aid him, but do not go too far."

“You have my word,” Balin winked.

After another tight hug and a kiss good bye Bilbo left Thorin’s side, waved once more to the company, and followed Balin down the dark tunnel. His excitement over accepting Thorin’s proposal mixed with his pang of sorrow at leaving them all behind. He also regretted not being able to exchange farewells with Bofur, truly hoping he would be able to apologize to his friend if indeed he made it back out at all. Still, he was glad he finally gave Thorin an answer, for no matter what the outcome of his venture into the dragon’s layer may be, at least would Thorin knew his One wished to spend the rest of his life with him. Now, as it stood, he was content and could go on with a much clearer head knowing that should he survive all of this, his future involved him marrying the one being in Middle Earth he cherished the most. That reward was much more precious to him than gold.

They walked on in silence, Bilbo happy with his thoughts until he began to sober from the darkness surrounding them. It was quite claustrophobic and damp in the tunnel, chilling the hobbit and making him shiver, but the fire from the torch Balin held was somewhat comforting. When he glanced over at the white-haired dwarf, he began to wonder why he had chosen to follow him and decided to finally break the silence.

“Are you familiar with this passageway?” he politely wondered.

“I thought I knew all of Erebor’s secrets,” Balin chuckled, “but no, it wasn’t until I saw Thror’s map that I even knew a secret entrance existed. I will say I have a hunch as to where it leads.” His voice grew sad at this. “Just stay vigilant, laddie.”

Bilbo let out a sigh, then shook his head.

“A dragon,” he chuckled. “Oh, what my dear mother would say.”

“And then on to marry a king. I must say, hobbits are quite remarkable.”

“Remarkably foolish, although I can’t imagine any other hobbit going on such a journey as this.”

“I have never found someone as brave as yourself, Master Baggins,” the dwarf said, glancing over at him with a smile. “Or I should say I have never found one as brave and steadfast as Thorin. You are quite well matched, although I do fear for the current state he is in.”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo wondered, brow furrowed. He was wary of the tone Balin’s voice took on, as if whatever he was thinking caused him great concern.

“Perhaps you have not noticed a change in him,” the dwarf said, “but I have known Thorin all my life and had the unfortunate privilege of watching his grandfather descend into madness. I fear Thorin may be starting to feel the effects of the gold-pull. That is, the closer he is to his goal of reclaiming Erebor and her riches the more the gold calls out to him. It is too early to see how much it will affect him, if he has been away too long for it to have any lasting consequences or if it is too much all at once.”

“But surely he has a lot on his mind,” Bilbo pointed out. With a pang of sympathy he remembered Thorin’s nightmares, how they had taken such a toll on the poor king. “It’s not fair to judge so soon whether it is something serious like gold sickness or just the pressure of the quest.”

“I agree with you,” Balin said complacently. “He could very well return to normal once Smaug is dealt with, but as his advisor and friend I must air on the side of caution. I know what it does, Bilbo, and I would not like to see you suffer for it as well. I only ask that you keep it in mind, especially as his future Consort.”

As loath as he was to admit it Bilbo found his words rather alarming, trying to think back to any particular instance where Thorin hadn’t been acting like himself.

“Is possessiveness a symptom?” he wondered, remembering how odd it felt defending his friendship with Bofur. “I mean, he _is_ proud and...well.” He blushed, suddenly feeling awkward even thinking about his relationship with the king around his old friend. “More possessive than usual,” he finished lamely. Balin chuckled.

“All dwarves are, and I know how he feels about you so it would not surprise me. I would be wary if he tries to prevent you from doing certain things. Not so much now, because he has a plan we would all do well to follow, but he shouldn’t make you feel uncomfortable or threatened. That would not be the Thorin you or I know, and then we would have a problem. Just something to think about, laddie. I fear I must take my leave now. I have already ventured far enough.”

They parted ways, then, Bilbo thanking him for keeping him company and assuring the dwarf he would do his best to stay safe. As he watched Balin walk back, an uneasiness crept into his heart and it was all he could do to push himself forward once more. He mulled over their conversation, realizing he was still not sure if he was happy with how jealous Thorin seemed of Bofur. It had been very silly of him to even question his motives, especially after Bilbo committed himself to him! He truly didn’t want to think of the dragon sickness as a possibility, but he knew he couldn’t be blind to the dangers of it.

_It could ruin everything,_ he thought with a shiver. Everything they fought for, nearly died for on countless occasions, their relationship, Fíli and Kíli’s futures and the company’s home−

“No,” he breathed, “don’t jump to conclusions. Not now.” He needed to focus, to be the best burglar he could be for Thorin and everyone else. That was what he was there for, and all other worries needed to be pushed aside.

Taking calming breaths he continued on, focusing on the red light in front of him that grew larger with every step he took. Suddenly he wondered if Balin had been on to something. Perhaps he _would_ meet Smaug sooner than he thought, for what else glowed red in a mountain inhabited only by a dragon?

When he came upon it at last it was a sight he would remember for a long time after, weaving it into stories both written and told. There upon a great pile of gold, jewels, and lost heirlooms lay a dragon so big that Bilbo was certain he would fill the entire treasure room were he to stretch himself out.

Smaug the Terrible was exactly that; _terrible._ Massive, with golden-red scales that would put even the sturdiest of dwarven armor to shame, and with a heat surrounding him that made Bilbo wish for the cool night air again. Smaug was sleeping, as Bilbo crept silently down the crumbling steps unseen, and the puffs of smoke he emitted with each breath made the hobbit steer clear of his giant nostrils. Everything about the dragon scaled Bilbo a hundred times over (at least that was his quick estimation) and it was all the poor hobbit could do to look away and back to the treasure. He had his ring on, so he knew as long as he was quiet he could get what he needed, but with such a nightmarish creature taking up so much space he hardly knew what he could safely grab! Luckily his eyes fell on a gold cup and he took great care to keep his movements slow as he stooped to pick it up, one eye on the dragon at all times. He held his breath, but as soon as Smaug shifted he could take the suspense no longer and fled back to the secret passageway.

He ran quite literally for his life, panting and clutching the cup close to his chest and thoroughly convinced he would be incinerated. It seemed to take him much too long to reach the end of the tunnel, but once he did he couldn’t have been more grateful to be outside of the mountain.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“It sounded like− oomf!”

“Sorry!” Bilbo gasped, taking off his ring and shoving it in his pocket. He had run into Glóin, but now the ginger dwarf was giving him the biggest smile he had ever seen on the hardened warrior.

“Hey, look at that!” Glóin chortled, clapping him on the shoulder. “He made it!”

“And it looks like he brought something back,” Dwalin commented from beside them.

The rest of the dwarves crowded in, patting him on the back and taking turns passing around the cup. Bilbo only had eyes for Thorin, though, once he remembered he was safe and was able to glance around. The look in the king’s eyes as he walked up to Bilbo made the hobbit’s heart thump hard in his chest, and he realized he would do it all over again if it meant Thorin would smile at him like that every day for the rest of his life.

“My brave burglar,” the king said, voice low and sultry as he wrapped his arms around him. Bilbo shivered and gladly gave into the hug. Before he could even open his mouth, however, he started to feel slight rumble under his feet that gradually grew into quite the spectacular quake that would have thrown him from his feet had he not been clutching to Thorin.

“What was that?” he heard Ori ask, a tremor in his voice.

“I think I know,” Bilbo said weakly as he looked up at Thorin. Before the king could answer, the rumbling turned into a deafening roar as a shadow passed overhead.

Smaug had awoken. 

“We have to go back in,” Bilbo squeaked, fear quickly overcoming him. 

“There are others still in the valley,” Thorin said, blue eyes wide. “Fíli, Kíli.” He turned to the lads, gesturing. “Into the mountain with Balin. Anyone else who wishes to lend a hand stays, but I will not fault you for taking shelter.” Thorin turned back and Bilbo was instantly filled with dread. 

“No,” he murmured.

“Go, Bilbo.”

“No!” he shouted, “I won’t leave you!”

“Mister Bilbo, come on!” Fíli called out.

“You must,” Thorin said. His voice was tight, his gaze traveling from the sky to the valley, and back again before falling on Bilbo. There was fear in his eyes like the hobbit had never seen before, but when Bilbo stepped forward he was instantly met with hands pushing him roughly back. “Go with Fíli.”

“But−”

“Do as I say!”

Smaug let out a mighty roar and Bilbo gasped, eyes wide as he watched Thorin race over to help Dwalin with the ropes. Hands were on him again, only this time he was being pulled back into the mountain. Once he was in he ran without a word, Fíli’s tight grip the only thing to ground him while his mind remained outside with Thorin. Going from such euphoria over being safe once more to being shaken with fear left him speechless and in shock. He shouldn’t have been running away from Thorin, leaving him there to face the dragon. He’d just _seen_ the awful beast! Whatever he had pictured in his head before of what the creature looked like died a quick death once he saw it with his own eyes. He wasn’t even sure how there had been any survivors the first time he attacked. Surely he could have brought down the entire mountain if he wished! And Thorin pushing him away like that, as if Bilbo wouldn’t have been able to lend his help when he had already proven himself over and over again−

“He’ll be okay, Bilbo,” Fíli spoke up, continuing to lead him on. Bilbo’s heart hammered in his ears, and he almost tripped when he felt the stone beneath him rumble once more. “They’ll all be. I know you’re friends with Mister Bofur.” The hobbit could only nod, though Fíli couldn’t see it, and remained tight lipped the entire way. He didn’t quite know what he was feeling, a mixture of fear, anger, and frustration leaving him speechless yet complacent with Fíli’s grip on him.

“ _Nadad!_ ” Bilbo looked up to find Kíli bounding towards them, a worried expression on his face. “I thought you were right behind us! Ori twisted his ankle so I was helping him along with Dori but I didn’t know you stayed behind−”

“Kee, it’s okay.” At this, Fíli finally let go of Bilbo and wrapped his arms around his brother.

“Is Uncle still out there?” Kíli murmured. Bilbo shuddered and must have made a noise at this, for the younger prince turned and looked at him with wide eyes. “They need to be quick or else−”

“They will make it,” Fíli said confidently, even as a muffled roar travelled down to them. “Smaug doesn’t know where the door is so they have time. He won’t see them just yet. Come on, I want to see who all are down here.”

They walked the rest of the way to where the others had stopped, with Bilbo flanked on either side by the princes. If they thought that he would run back to their uncle if they didn’t, then Bilbo figured their fears were not unfounded.

Once they reached the rest of the company, Bilbo did his own quick assessment of their numbers before slumping to the ground. He hugged his knees to his chest and worked on trying to keep his breathing steady as the company moved around him. Well, _half_ of the company, which really didn't help when it reminded him that the rest were out there. He didn't begrudge Thorin for helping Bofur and Bombur, quite the opposite, but he was both terrified for their lives and angry at Thorin. He would focus on the latter once he knew the king was safe, not having the heart to do so when Thorin was sacrificing his own well-being. It gave him hope with how it countered his earlier conversation with Balin, although he wasn't overly fond of the way Thorin pushed him back.

"Mister Bilbo?" He looked up, focusing on the younger prince standing before him. "Would you say we're about halfway down the tunnel?"

"Uhm..." Bilbo glanced around, really having no way of knowing. He hadn't paid attention when Fíli dragged him down, and he had only been there once before, but his instincts made him nod. "I would say so."

"If Smaug were to return to the mountain would he smell us?"

"Only if he were to stick his snout in the doorway," Bilbo sighed. "We should be fine here."

"Okay. Thank you."

The hobbit was about to wave his hand, but when he caught the look in Kíli’s eyes he grew concerned for him.

"My lad," he murmured, "are you well?"

"I'm scared," the prince chuckled softly, shaking his head. "It's all becoming real much too quick for my liking. As much as I love stories about dragons, I'm not sure I'm fond of them in real life."

"I assure you that you are being sensible." Bilbo let out a shaky breath. "He is truly, _truly_ terrifying, and I would worry for you more if you didn't fear him."

Kíli nodded, expression taut with unease as he turned back to speak with his brother. Bilbo could hear as he relayed their conversation to Fíli, but soon tuned them out when his own worries crept back into his mind. He didn’t have much time to focus on his fears, however, for he soon heard voices from the other end of the tunnel. Turning his head, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding as Thorin led the rest of the company back to them, and everyone did in fact appear to be accounted for.

“Sweet Yavana,” he whimpered, shaking his head before resting his chin on his knees. He watched as Thorin spoke with Fíli, relief very much evident on his face. The king had to have been under a lot of stress for his expression to be so readable.

_Well, of course he was,_ Bilbo thought to himself with a scoff. _He was just nearly incinerated! We all were…_

Along with his relief, the hobbit felt a lick of anger go through him. Perhaps it wasn’t fair of him to feel that way, but still there was something there that wouldn’t allow him to let go of how the king had treated him.

Once Thorin isolated himself from the others, leaning against the rock wall with a faraway gaze in his eyes, Bilbo only allowed a few moments to pass before going to him. The king looked up as he approached, expression suddenly neutral and frustrating the hobbit to no end. If only he would stop being so stoic when it came to his own emotions!

"That was brave of you," Bilbo started, voice low. He cleared his throat once before looking down at his feet. "I know you are willing to sacrifice yourself for this company, but please don't ever do that to me again. Don't push me away right when you're about to do something that might end your life." When he peeked back up, hard blue eyes regarded him.

"I did it for your protection," Thorin said sternly. "Only the strongest of us were able to pull them up in as short a time as we had. I beg your pardon, but it is the truth."

"I know, but you pushed me away! I was worried sickfor you, Thorin."

"You would have distracted me." Bilbo flinched, but the king went on. "Tell me we would have been successful with my thoughts focused on your safety.” He laughed wearily when Bilbo had nothing to say to that. “I could only act knowing you were safe. You know this."

"I just...I want us to be on the same page, and that can't happen when you're ordering me around."

"You need to follow my orders. We are betrothed, but I am the leader of a company that you are very much a part of. I expect you to honor that."

Bilbo remembered his conversation with Balin in that moment, Thorin almost echoing the wise dwarf’s words. He didn't like it, not one bit, for he had grown accustomed to being treated as Thorin's equal. If they could just figure out a way to meet on common ground−

"This is in your contract, burglar."

The words almost didn’t register, but when Bilbo realized what he said he was completely taken aback.

"Excuse me,” he sputtered.

"Nothing in the contract is negotiable." Thorin looked worn, face wan as he pushed off of the wall with a grunt. "You are to obey me until this quest is finished, just like everyone else in this company. This conversation is finished."

Bilbo sputtered as Thorin passed him, feeling very much at a loss and unable to respond with anything that would make him turn back. 

“Give him time,” he heard a gruff voice say from behind. His shoulders slumped and he looked over his shoulder to see Dwalin’s large frame. “Seeing the dragon again did something funny to his head. Almost had to drag him in once everyone was safe.”

“I need to be able to help him, though,” Bilbo said weakly, turning to the warrior dwarf and looking up at him. “I’m sure you know by now that I accepted his proposal−”

“Lad,” he said, “we had a wager going ever since we were at that skin-changer’s house.”

“That...shouldn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Dwalin chuckled at this, placing a large hand on his shoulder and squeezing hard. “Yes, very funny,” Bilbo winced, “but−”

“He’ll let you help him, in his own way and when he’s ready. Don’t worry about him too much.”

Bilbo didn’t think Dwalin noticed the same change in their king as his brother had so he decided not to bring it up. He very much admired the fierce loyalty the warrior had to Thorin, knowing just how far back their friendship went, so it wouldn’t do well to speak of anything other than respect or fondness for the king in front of him.

“Okay,” he said with a yawn. 

“You could use some rest, laddie. Don’t let me keep you up.” He let his hand drop and nodded once before turning. “Let us know if you need anything.”

“Of course. Thank you, Dwalin.”

Rest wouldn’t come so easy for him that night. Even with the company huddled around he was cold, shivering in his bedroll without the warmth of his lover. He would have felt spurned if Thorin had actually slept that night, but when Bilbo woke after dozing for a few hours and saw that he remained in the same position, he knew Thorin didn’t plan on retiring. It took everything he had to keep himself from crawling over to him, sympathy overcoming his dwindling anger. Later on he would try to have a decent conversation with him, but for now he would attempt to get some more sleep before the king decided to wake everyone.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

When Thorin woke them at dawn they stood debating their next move. Smaug was angry, now, and knew of their presence although there was one among them who now knew his way around at least part of the treasure room.

Bilbo stood off to the side, fingering the ring in his pocket and gazing down the dark tunnel. He knew Smaug had returned to his treasure during the night. If he were to go back down then he would surely face the horrible creature once more, only this time he would be waiting. There was nothing for it, though. Somehow they had to find his weakness. They couldn’t reclaim the mountain with Smaug inside it, nor could they carry the gold out piece by piece. Bilbo had to go back down, and when he voiced his decision he was met with an uneasy silence.

“Are you sure?” Kíli eventually spoke up.

“We don’t have a choice, do we?” the hobbit shrugged. “He’ll go mad if he finds out about you lot, but I might have a better chance.”

The company mumbled to each other, most of them in agreement, but soon had eyes only for Thorin as he walked up to Bilbo.

“He’s right,” he said. Bilbo’s smile faltered when he noticed how the king’s eyes looked right through him, as if he wasn’t standing there at all. “Find his weakness,” Thorin murmured to him. Bilbo looked down, not quite able to ignore the undertones in that statement, but he nodded.

“I’ll...I’ll try,” he said weakly. “I won’t disappoint you.”

Without another word Bilbo walked away from him, heart just as heavy as the night before when he had that heated exchange with Thorin.

_Deal with Smaug first,_ he reminded himself. There were murmured well wishes following him as he passed the other dwarves, some wearing expressions he knew meant they didn’t expect to see him again. _If only Gandalf were here._

The way down to the treasure room was shorter this time. They were already halfway down the tunnel, of course, but in no time it all Bilbo was stepping through the door. He covered his mouth as a great shuddering breath left him, then he crept around the room the same way he had done before, biding his time as he considered ways one could dispose of a dragon−

The sound of gold rattling and heavy trinkets crashing to the ground made Bilbo jump. He barely had any time at all to move before a large breath was exhaled, hot air blowing against his body, and a booming voice demanded,

“ _Who_ enters my lair?”

Bilbo stopped in his tracks, trembling, and he knew Smaug could smell him. It didn’t matter that he had his ring on. A dragon would smell anything that threatened its treasure, and he had to act fast.

_He isn’t like Gollum,_ the hobbit thought to himself, for that was what he had come to name the creature in the goblin tunnels. _He’s much bigger, much cleverer than all of the elves of Mirkwood put together, and much more dangerous than Azog could ever hope to be._

He wasn’t sure if he could do it, but he would damn well try. 

“For Thorin,” he breathed, before taking off his ring. There was a rumble almost like laughter, coins clinking together as Smaug moved through the treasure. Bilbo watched him warily as he crept along the wall, making sure the door was always within his sight.

“Thorin?” Smaug spoke. His voice was like nothing Bilbo had ever heard. It was low, yet boomed with a force that filled the entire hall, shaking the hobbit like the great stone giants had. Only nothing around him moved. The effect was more invasive, in his very bones and reaching deep into his terrified soul with fingers made of icy hot flames. “I am familiar with that name. Thror was the king of this mountain, and his son Thrain and _his_ son Thorin II. Oh yes, small creature, I know the line of Durin quite well.”

“Do you know my name, wise Smaug?” Bilbo squeaked. “Or have you never met a creature such as I?” He felt quite proud, rattling off all the clever names he picked up over the course of their journey without revealing his true one until he could tell Smaug grew bored with his monologue. 

“I care not, little rabbit, but I _do_ smell dwarf on you.” 

Bilbo almost shrieked when the dragon shifted closer to him, coming much too close for his liking. He could see his own reflection in his giant, fiery eye and feel the sweltering heat burning his lungs. 

“D-Dwarf?” he chuckled. “I assure you it is just me, a curious hobbit. I’m not even armed!” 

“Hobbits don’t seem very bright, then, coming into a dragon’s home without even a sword.”

“I thought it would be rude.” He didn’t mention the fact that Sting was hanging by his side, but it wasn’t as if the sword− a mere toothpick to Smaug− could help him now. “We don’t go into each other’s homes brandishing weapons, after all!”

“Yet you come in unannounced and uninvited?” Bilbo never thought a dragon could look so unimpressed, but then again this was the first one he had ever encountered. “Your manners are quite strange, but we digress. I know you travel with Thorin Oakenshield. Has he come to reclaim his home?” 

The mocking in Smaug’s voice made Bilbo feel sick, a sinking feeling in his stomach mixing with the simmering anger that started rising to a boil. This creature had taken away almost everything Thorin held dear, exiled hundreds of dwarves, and all for what? A pile of treasure? He wouldn’t dare voice these thoughts, knowing they would most certainly be his last words, but something burned in him not unlike the fire this drake was capable of. 

“It is true,” he sighed, eyes searching the dragon’s body for any kind of weakness. “They are my companions, I will not lie to your majesty any longer, but I assure you they have only acted as guides the whole way.”

“Hmm.” Smaug regarded him with as much mirth as a dragon could express, the corner of his mouth curling up and his eyelid drooping slightly. “You know as well as I that they are not mere guides. They want their home back. _Oh_ ,” the word came out as a hiss, as if the very thought pained the dragon. Bilbo clenched his teeth at his mocking tone. “It is all so very _sad_. I was without a home once, but then I found this one. I must say it has served me well all these years and not much would tempt me to leave it. Tell me, barrel-rider, how did they tempt you out of yours? A soft creature like you is not meant for the wild. Did they promise you gold?”

“I-It wasn’t the gold, per say,” he faltered. It hadn’t been the gold, surely, although he was promised quite a decent sum.

“Surely you wouldn’t object to it?” Smaug flicked his tail, drawing Bilbo’s attention to the shimmering coins. “You would never want for food or comfort again! But I wonder how they will send it all back with you? You come from a land far away, for I have never seen a creature such as yourself in this part of the world, and for all of the dangers that are out there these dwarves should secure a way to send it back with you safely.”

“It’s in the contract!” he blurted, quickly covering his mouth with both hands. Smaug tilted his head to the side.

“They made you sign a contract. I do hope you read it in its entirety, for dwarves tend to be tricky.”

“How so?”

Suddenly the dragon seemed to know more about dwarves than Bilbo did, even after traveling with them for months. Did the hobbit _really_ know them as well as he thought he did? What if they didn’t give him his share after all? Oh, he would be so livid after everything he had been through for them!

“They only seek treasure for themselves,” Smaug went on. “I can’t imagine they would willingly share with someone such as yourself, even if you signed a contract. I’m sure within that very contract lies a statement that says they are allowed to change it at any time! You see, they are very much like that.”

The dragon was smug, almost too smug, and when Bilbo asked his next question it was then that he knew the great beast was playing tricks on his mind.

“And once they have their gold, what then?”

“They’ll move on to find more, I suppose.”

If the dragon could have shrugged, Bilbo was convinced he would have, but now he was able to snap himself out of the fog that took over his mind for that brief moment. The way Thorin sang of his home, how the two princes wormed their way into his heart before he even knew it, and the promise of an adventure of a lifetime... _that_ was what made him leave Bag End. Of course he knew that! He wouldn’t have to worry about his fourteenth share being shipped back home anyway, not when he was going to live in Erebor! And for Smaug to claim that they would _move on_ after finally reclaiming their home?!

“You are very clever, aren’t you?” he huffed, doing his best to smile politely without baring his teeth. He should have known better. All of those stories he read and yet he failed to remember one of the most important warnings; dragons could convince you of even the most absurd lies through their talk.

“I like to think so,” Smaug sighed.

“You see, though, I am a most curious hobbit, sometimes too much for my own good. I joined the company of Thorin Oakenshield because I wished to see if the stories of your impressive enormity were true.”

“And are they true?” 

“Very…very much so. Sir.” If Bilbo was anything he was most certainly a hobbit, and he would at least fake politeness even when he despised the creature in front of him. “I knew you were red, but _golden-_ red.” His laugh sounded more painful than jovial. “I must say, it is quite the color on you.” 

“Have you never seen scales such as these, tiny one?” Smaug turned so that the fire burning in the torches on the walls caught his body in a way that made him glisten. Bilbo, despite his fear and disdain, had to admit he really was impressed with the dragon. Everything about him was sharp and well kempt, no decay or worn edges. He seemed much too healthy for a dragon his age, especially for one living under the same mountain for sixty years. 

“Oh Smaug the Stupendous,” he reveled, “how do you stay so impressive?”

“Beauty sleep,” the dragon purred. “However, you have yet to see the best part.” 

“And what would that be?” Bilbo already knew, having eyed up the jewel encrusted underside of the great beast in hopes that it contained some kind of weakness. He seemed to remember something about dragons having a soft belly from his storybooks. As Smaug turned and showed his off like a proud cat, scattering the treasure about so that Bilbo had to dodge a few misdirected coins, the hobbit barely had much time to find what he was looking for. “Well, my goodness,” he murmured, dropping his arms from shielding his head, “that _is_ the best part.” 

“It has taken all of sixty years to accumulate this treasure. And do you want to know something, _burglar?_ ” Before flipping back over completely, Bilbo finally caught a glimpse of what he was looking for; a soft spot just big enough for an arrow to embed itself in! “I said,” the dragon hissed. He was suddenly much closer than what Bilbo was comfortable with. The hobbit took a step back, glancing over to make sure the door was still within his reach. “Do you want to _know_ something?” 

“Uhm…sure? Y-Yes, I am always quite, er, interested,” he backed more towards the door, “in what such a l-lovely cre- er, a dragon, has to say. S-Smaug the Magnificent.” 

Smaug’s low, terrifying chuckle resounded throughout the hall and Bilbo knew the steam coming from his nose was his final warning to get out. 

“I know _every_ piece of my treasure, down to the last _cup!_ ” His tail whipped around and Bilbo had to duck lest he lose his head. He stumbled over to the door as quick as he could after that, nearly tripping when the dragon roared, “ _Thief!_ ” The harsh voice followed him all the way up the tunnel, making him lose his nerve completely. 

As he raced towards the opening, he could feel the heat of the fire trailing behind him until searing hot flames licked at his heels. The burning skin of his feet and calves did not register at first, and he thought he escaped the fire until the pain of his injured feet finally registered as they continued slapping against the stone ground in his haste to get away from Smaug. He stumbled the rest of the way, letting out a shout as he reached the company once more, ripping off his ring and falling to the ground with a cry of pain.

“Bilbo!”

“Give him space!” came Thorin’s booming voice. Bilbo felt a presence crouch beside him, and he tried to focus as the king spoke to him. “My _kurdu,_ what is it?”

“Feet,” he gasped, shaking his curly head. “I-It hurts, Thorin, the fire…”

“Óin!” Thorin barked. 

Once the healer came over and assessed the damage, Bilbo was soon cradled in Thorin’s lap as Óin applied a salve to his feet. The initial touch was excruciating and the poor hobbit shouted himself hoarse. Clutching Thorin and nearly climbing up the dwarf in his attempt to get away from the awful sensation, he wept until the cooling salve finally started to numb his burns.  

“The heat should not be trapped in so I will not wrap them just yet,” Óin explained gently. “You will need to rest after such a shock.”

“Is there a blanket in your pack?” Thorin asked, for Bilbo had started to shiver. The hobbit didn’t want to admit that the pain was making him do so rather than the cold, but after his harrowing experience he wouldn’t deny the comfort of his king’s warm chest and a soft blanket. 

Once the blanket was wrapped around him and his tears stopped falling, he managed to doze a little. He woke shortly after to the hushed whispers of the company around him and Thorin softly singing, but not to the pain returning to his feet. He marveled at the skills of the healer, how he could be so comfortably numb after nearly having his feet burned off, although he knew they would not be so pleasant to look at once he got the chance to examine them. His poor hair had probably singed right off!

“Bilbo.”

The hobbit looked up at Thorin, offering a small smile at the king’s concerned gaze. 

“Your mountain has a severe dragon problem,” he mumbled. Thorin let out a huff, shaking his head before kissing his forehead. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Tired,” the hobbit said, doing his best to stretch before curling in on himself again. “I’m okay, though, much better than I was.” 

“Óin will have to keep applying the salve, and the dressings soon to protect against infection. If it hurts let one of us know. You don’t have to suffer for it.” 

“Okay.” Bilbo yawned, snuggling closer to him. “Oh.” He frowned as he looked up at the king, weaving his fingers into thick hair and shivering slightly as he recalled the devastating truth. “I should tell you that he knows about you and the others. He smelled you on me. Can you believe that? Although he does have a big nose…” Thorin’s arms tightened around him, the king’s lips pressing firmly to the top of his head.

“Then there is no longer any need for you to go in alone,” he murmured. Bilbo let out a shaky sigh of relief at this. “You have done more than enough for us.”

“That is nice to know.”

“Bilbo?”

He turned his head and looked up when the small, worried voice spoke his name, sighing as he beckoned Fíli and Kíli closer.

“It’s okay, I won’t break,” he chuckled. Both princes kneeled by his side with expressions of great concern, reaching out to clasp his offered hand and blurting out their words at the same time,

“How are you?” 

“When we saw you were hurt, we didn’t know what to think−”

“You’re so brave, Bilbo−”

“We really should have−”

“Lads,” Thorin chided.

“Sorry,” Fíli whispered. The look Kíli afforded his uncle, however, told Bilbo just what the younger prince thought of him in that moment.

“I assure you,” he said quickly, “I’m fine. I am very grateful that the damage wasn’t any worse, and as I told your uncle I’m feeling much better. Honestly.” He squeezed their hands, and they gave a gentle squeeze back before carefully enveloping him in a hug. “Sweet lads,” he sighed, feeling wetness against his cheek from Kíli’s tears. “It would take more than a dragon to keep me from the three of you.” He heard the sound Thorin made at this, smiling as the king tugged him closer.

Bilbo allowed them to snuggle up to him for some time, taking great comfort from their need to be with him. He spoke of his encounter with Smaug, of the softness he found on his underbelly, and that seemed to cheer them all greatly.

“The next time he comes out, I’ll have an arrow ready for him,” Kíli promised.

“Well, hopefully there won’t be a next time,” Bilbo said. “Not yet, anyway.”

“You’re right,” Thorin murmured. “We’ll come up with a better plan of attack.”

They talked over the many ways in which they could defeat the great beast, but when snow started to fall and the skies darkened Thorin decided it was time for them to go back into the tunnel. When Óin stated that he shouldn’t walk yet, the king carefully gathered Bilbo in his arms so that his feet dangled without being irritated.

“I’m fine,” Bilbo said before the king could ask, “and I shall be happy to leave that damn thrush to knock by himself!” Indeed, the thrush had continued to knock against the stone door the entire time they were there, turning its head every now and then as if listening to Bilbo’s conversation with the Durins. “He played his part already, now he’s just being annoying.”

“Have some respect,” Thorin chuckled as he carried him in. “He is of an ancient breed. They have served my family well over the years.” He sighed at this and Bilbo was curious to see him smile sadly. “My brother Frerin was particularly gifted with communicating with them. My father and grandfather used them for purposes of communication with the men of Dale, but when Frerin was young he would sit with them almost every afternoon after our lunch and talk with them. He found them fascinating, and though I lacked the patience for bird talk I could see the joy it brought him.”

“You were close to your brother,” Bilbo said, carefully watching Thorin’s expression.

“Aye.” The king swallowed hard. “I did not have much time with him, but I cherished him greatly. I see him in Fíli and Kíli, his love for life and excitement over the little things that I tend to overlook. He taught me wonderful things that I let slip by over the years, but my sister was always there to remind me.” He let out a small laugh that warmed Bilbo’s heart. “She was never known for her subtlety, but she made sure I always remembered his smile, his laughter, the way he would curl against me during our camping trips yet insist he wasn’t afraid of the dark. He was always very kind, but when he started his training that was when we all realized his gift with the axe. He was almost unrecognizable when he fought, and that worried me at first for it does not do a warrior well to forget themselves in the heat of battle, but I soon learned how innate his skills were.”

Thorin faltered, carefully setting Bilbo down as a frown returned to his lips. Not knowing if he should ask, Bilbo watch as the king sat next to him, giving in to having the blanket wrapped around him once again. As he leaned against his bethrothed’s shoulder, however, he found he didn’t have to voice the dreaded question.

“He fell in the Battle of Azanulbizar,” Thorin went on. “He was forty-eight.”

“You lost him along with your grandfather,” Bilbo found himself saying.

“And my father as well.”

“Of course.”

They fell into a tense silence after, in which Bilbo wasn’t sure if he should comfort Thorin or just let him be. He certainly wasn’t one to speak of such personal matters often, but Bilbo felt as if he had just been let in on a secret only a trusted few knew even if most of the dwarves knew about Thorin’s brother.

“I will have Fíli and Kíli sit with you,” the king said shortly. Startled, Bilbo looked up to find him wearing a neutral expression as he stared ahead. “I need to speak with Dwalin.”

Before Thorin could stand, however, the hobbit quickly wrapped his arms around his middle and hugged him tight.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he murmured. Thorin responded by kissing the top of his head and squeezing him once before breaking away.

“We won’t spend too much longer in here,” he said as he stood. “Take your rest while you can so your feet will heal.”

Bilbo watched him walk off, sadness in his heart as he remembered once more all of the burdens the great king carried. How could Bilbo even hope to understand all he had been through? He knew the sadness of losing a beloved parent, but the amount of death Thorin had seen throughout his life of young ones and those who were closest to him made the hobbit fear that he would never be able to offer true comfort.

_And that’s all I want to do for him,_ he thought with a sigh.

When Fíli and Kíli joined his side once more, sandwiching him between them and keeping him warm, he chatted lightly but soon fell silent as he rested his head against Fíli’s shoulder. The lads respected his solemn mood and let him be, talking instead to each other in quiet tones that helped lull Bilbo into a sense of calm. He still wasn’t completely healed and could feel some of the pain creeping back, but he was mainly occupied with sad thoughts swirling around his head of Thorin’s past.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

In the days to come, once they realized the door had closed behind them and there was no way out, they waited until they could stand it no longer. The final decision came, however, when Bilbo made to stand and nearly fell on his face in front of the entire company. Luckily Bofur had grabbed him before he could come to any harm, guiding him back down to sit on the ground.

“Yer all right, laddie, deep breaths now.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” Bilbo shook his head, trying to clear his head. “I feel dizzy.”

“It’s no wonder,” Dori tsked, handing over his waterskin. “There is hardly any air flow in this wretched tunnel.”

Bilbo felt himself flush, whether from embarrassment or the blood trying to return to his head but when he met Thorin’s eyes he knew they would move on.

“Smaug has attacked the door far too often for him to still be in the mountain,” the king said. “If he is waiting for us outside, then we must travel in.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Bilbo heard Bofur murmur. His friend still had a hand on his back, looking at him with concern. “Will you be able to walk?”

“I should think so, and in any case I shall be glad to try if it means we finally leave this place behind.” He carefully climbed back to his feet, thankful the water seemed to help and that his burns were only a faint ache. Still he leaned against Bofur as they made their way down, keeping his eyes trained on Thorin’s back as he led them on.

To everyone’s great relief the treasure room was free of the dragon when they arrived, and the sight of the gold instantly heightened their spirits. Bilbo was left to watch as they scattered among the heaps of gold, their jubilant shouts echoing through the room making him wince. There was nothing to say the dragon wouldn’t come back once he finished his tirade on the mountain, but when he tried to warn them of this they didn’t pay him any mind. 

“Well, I suppose they’ve earned it,” he sighed. “I suppose _I’ve_ earned it.”

Being a hobbit, he was not one for pretty gems or valuable trinkets. He was even considering taking his fourteenth share and putting it towards rebuilding the kingdom, perhaps for gardens outside once the land was allowed to thrive again, for there was truly nothing else he could think of using it for. Still, to witness the wealth of Erebor firsthand and all the potential it would provide for its people brought him great joy, so he allowed himself a look around just for the pleasure of what was to come.

During his inspection he was surprised to hear music. What sounded like harp strings being plucked followed by peals of laughter made him look around one pile of gold to find Fíli and Kíli having a good time with the harps they found. Shaking his head and chuckling, he would have dismissed their silliness had it not been for the conversation he remembered having with Thorin about music. The instruments had survived after all, even if Thorin’s original harp had not, and that alone made him smile more than any of the other treasures in that room.  

He spent some time admiring some of the armor lining the walls, idly wondering if he could fit into some of them when he felt someone brush past him. He jumped, for he was still on edge about the dangers of each passing minute, but when he looked to see who it was he relaxed considerably.

“Thorin,” he said, causing the king to pause and turn back to him. Bilbo was startled at first to see impatience flash in his eyes, as if he was being prevented from upholding some important task. “We shouldn’t stay for very long.” He knew his voice was weak, taken very much off guard by how Thorin looked at him, but still he walked forward and offered a small smile. “I know this is the first time in years since you’ve been here, and it is truly impressive, but we only have luck going for us right now. Smaug could come back at any moment.”

“I must find something first, Bilbo,” Thorin said. “Then we will leave.”

“Can I help you look for it?

“No.” The word was sharp, making the hobbit wince, and Thorin’s expression cleared for a moment. “No, I will do this alone. It will not take long.” The king hesitated before leaning in to place a kiss on his forehead, then he was off before Bilbo could say another word.

“What on earth?” he mumbled. There was no denying the change in Thorin. At this point he never knew when he would catch him during a time he was himself or was overcome by whatever was on his mind.

_Or whatever is taking over his mind,_ a particularly bothersome voice whispered.

He chewed his bottom lip, willing the thought away and continued on his walk around the room. It still bothered him, especially when he came upon Thorin again and watched as he dug through one pile muttering and shaking his head. He became wary, actually, fearing what would happen were he to get in his way. Deciding to let him be Bilbo considered one of the larger piles of gold, feeling the desire to climb, and before he knew it he was doing just that. His ascent was not graceful, his feet slipping along smooth coins causing him to stumble more than once, but the view he was afforded was worth it. He could see all of the dwarves as they ducked in and out from behind mounds of treasure. With a small laugh he caught the attention of the young scribe sitting on top of his own pile with his sketchbook open on his lap. Ori’s eyes lit up and he motioned for Bilbo to stand still, pencil flying wildly over one of his pages. After a few minutes, he held up his finished product and Bilbo squinted to see himself standing proudly on a mound of gold. He laughed, giving a thumbs up and a warm smile as the lad blushed and returned to his other drawings.

Shortly after, while running his hands through the coins with nothing better to do, it was then that something caught Bilbo’s eye and made him pause. It glittered like nothing else, almost giving off its own light, and as he dug deeper he came across it again. He almost lost it at that point, the fickle coins trying to fall on top of it again, but Bilbo was determined. Soon he got hold of it with both hands and gave a firm tug, revealing a stone that was like nothing the hobbit had ever seen before. It did indeed sparkle with its own light, shining like a thousand stars pulsating different colors with every way he turned it. Almost immediately he felt the need to sit. He held it in his lap so that it wouldn’t give off its light too much in the dimly lit room, staring in awe as he looked at it every which way. It was enchanting, lovely in every way and strangely warm to the touch. When he would look back on that moment he realized it had a similar effect on him as his ring did, although after a time he was able to look away and blink the starlight out of his eyes.

He focused on a far away corner of the room, trying to readjust his eyes as well as his mind. The stone had such a beauty that it was impossible to treat it with anything less than reverence, but when his gaze fell on Thorin once more it was then it hit him like a punch to the stomach. The king’s voice was clear in his head,

_“The Arkenstone held a similar effect over my family ever since it was found. Greed consumed those who spent any amount of time near it, and especially my family line. I never paid it much heed, although I can recognize what it does to us now that I have spent time away from it, yet I still desire that stone. To see it again, the heart of the mountain I so love, would be equal to looking upon the face of Mahal.”_

He had learned of his fears throughout their journey, but the first words Thorin spoke of the stone always stayed with him. There had been such sorrow in his voice, as well as traces of tired acceptance. Thorin desired the Arkenstone, it was what he was looking for at that very moment, but it was also the cause of the change Balin had spoke of. It was having an effect just as the king had feared, only now he wasn’t able to recognize what it was doing to him.

“Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo breathed. Without another glance, he covered the stone with the cloth from the front part of his coat, no longer desiring to look at it. He suddenly wished he had never found it, but then someone would have come upon it eventually.

What was he to do? Surely he couldn’t give it to Thorin. It would only make him worse, but then where would he hide it? He couldn’t keep it on him forever. Perhaps once they made their way to the front gates he could drop it in that body of water he saw before, although in a way it seemed cruel to do so. The Arkenstone was the heart of the very mountain, an ancient relic that deserved at least some respect. Perhaps once Gandalf came back he would know how to dispose of it in a way that made it seem like it was never even there to begin with. Thorin must not have it, though, and Bilbo would do everything within his power to keep it from him. He was sure once the king gave up looking for the stone he would return to his normal self. He just had to, otherwise he would be lost to his greed. How would he be able to rebuild Erebor while under the constant influence of a mere stone?

Bilbo shoved the Arkenstone deep into his pocket, taking a few deep breaths as he tried to keep the consequences of hiding the stone from crashing down on him. Thorin would be so angry with him if he found out. There was no telling what he would do to him, although Bilbo felt as though he had some idea.

_That’s why he won’t find it,_ he told himself. As if it were as simple as that.

With a world weary sigh Bilbo made his way back down the pile, suddenly feeling very tired. He knew he wouldn’t sleep well while trying to keep the stone a secret, but a nap would certainly do him some good. With the threat of the dragon, however, he had to encourage the company to move on first.

He stood still for a moment, looking around at the dwarves. Figuring Balin would be a good one to talk to about leaving, he barely took a step forward before he was stopped in his tracks.

“Bilbo.”

He nearly shrieked as warm breath puffed against the back of his neck, shivering as goosepimples erupted across his flesh. Thorin was right behind him, voice soft and reminding him of some of their more tender moments, but with the Arkenstone weighing heavy in his pocket he felt very much on edge. He slowly turned to the king, careful to keep a smile on his face, and Thorin’s eyes were dark as they gazed down at him. There was a possessive air about him that made the hobbit squirm.

_He doesn’t know,_ Bilbo thought. _And why would he? It is not as if he saw me take it._

“I have something for you.”

“O-Oh?” Bilbo watched as Thorin took something out of his pocket and held his palm flat as he presented...well, Bilbo wasn’t sure what it was at first, but as he took it into his own hand for closer inspection he saw that it was a bead. Not just any bead, either, but one that had the littlest carving of a flower he had ever seen! “Did you make this?” he wondered. 

“Dwarves carry beads with them at all times should they happen upon their One, but I admit I was unprepared for our courtship. I fashioned what I could, though I assure you I have plans for one made of the finest sapphire−” 

“I love it,” Bilbo breathed, still marveling over how big hands could create such a delicate design. “Truly, I have never seen such detail on such a small bead.” He looked up, still wary but very much touched. “Thank you. Will you put in on the end of my braid?”

“Aye, such is the tradition.”

Thorin’s smile was one that lit up his eyes and chased the darkness away for a brief moment, but when he took the bead from Bilbo and started to tidy up the braid there was a certain warmth lacking in his motions. Still, Bilbo enjoyed the feeling of the king’s fingers working through his hair and let his eyes slip closed. For a moment he imagined they were back in their room in Lake-town, safe and surrounded by the comfort of knowing where one another stood.

“There is something else,” Thorin murmured.

“Hmm?” Bilbo opened his eyes. The king pulled away for a brief moment, reaching behind and bringing out something that shimmered in the torchlight. Bilbo was stunned, taking in the beautiful silver mail that flowed like liquid through Thorin’s hands. They both regarded it with wonder, Thorin’s expression clearing as his lips lifted into a small smile. “What is it?”

“Mithril.”

“Oh, that’s−”

“What I told you before, heavier than steel yet light as a feather. It is my gift to you, my _kurdu_ , for I would see you safe in any way as long as this dragon lives.”

“I can’t possibly...Thorin.” Bilbo’s voice cracked as he looked back up at the king. He was so confused, so afraid of where Thorin’s mind was at that time, but to give up one of the greatest treasures in that room for Bilbo’s safety meant that the Thorin he loved was still in there somewhere. Once the Arkenstone was rid of, he was convinced he would he have him back in his entirety.

“It will fit you well,” Thorin went on. “Try it on.”

“N-Now?”

He was met with a blank stare, and soon enough he started to unbutton his coat if only to have an excuse to drop his gaze from Thorin’s. He could think of no reason to protest, but he wasn’t exactly comfortable with disrobing in the middle of a dragon’s lair. Still, he didn’t dare go against Thorin’s wishes at that point. He was very conscious of the stone in his pocket, although he was glad to have slipped it into his trousers instead of his coat. He had lost so much weight that even the new pair from Lake-town tailored to fit his frame hung off of him. The baggy pockets were just enough to conceal it. Thorin only had eyes for his top half, however, and as he placed his coat down and started to work on his shirt buttons, he heard the king murmur,

“It has been too long.” 

“Uhm.” He blushed, peeking up at Thorin and seeing the small smirk on his lips. “I suppose it has been.”

“Once we are through here, I promise you a bed so soft that you will never wish to leave it,” he went on, eyes burning with possession.

“Only if you are in it.”

Finally taking off his shirt, Bilbo shivered and crossed his arms across his chest against the chill, but Thorin closed his hands around his forearms and guided them down to his sides again. With one last admiring look, the king brought the mithril over his head and smoothed it down so it lay perfectly against his skin. Large hands traced over the cool mail covering his arms, and Bilbo looked up to find Thorin’s eyelids heavy with lust. His breath hitched, not knowing if the king’s desire was for him or for the precious metal, but a thrill ran through him all the same. As he stepped closer, his chest almost against Thorin’s, he immediately regretted it as one hand fell to his bottom. Thankful it wasn’t on the side with the stone in his pocket, he was still mindful of staying just far enough away so that the stone wouldn’t press against the king’s thigh.

“You were saying?” Bilbo quipped, trying to keep his voice light.

“I would claim you on every pile of gold in here,” Thorin growled, leaning in to drag his lips along his throat. “I would cover you with only the finest robes, crown you with jewels and braid beads of mithril into your hair. Everyone will know that you are mine.”

The hobbit gasped, eyes slipping closed as Thorin’s hand kneaded his bum. He whimpered in protest as he was pulled even closer, trying to angle himself away as his front pressed fully against Thorin now. In any other circumstance (but preferably one where Thorin wasn’t under some sort of spell) he would have jumped at the chance to be this close to his lover, but now as his ear was ruthlessly suckled and nipped he was starting to panic at the proximity of the stone to the king. One wrong move on either of their parts and he would be found out.

“T-Thorin,” he said, voice too low to catch the king’s attention. Perhaps he shouldn’t have led him on considering the state he was in, but he didn’t think a bit of playful teasing would lead to Thorin practically groping him in front of the company! “We should probably... _oh._ ” He quickly pulled away as he felt another hand creep down, and that was something he just couldn’t risk. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to catch his breath.

“You would deny me,” Thorin stated, voice low and suddenly quite dangerous.

“I a-assure you,” he chuckled nervously, “that the effect you have on me makes me want to push _you_ into this gold and have my way with you.” Still Thorin’s expression did not clear, brow stitched and face red from anger. Members of the company were starting to wander over to them, and Bilbo became quite nervous from their looks of curiosity. “B-But Smaug could return at any moment, and I won’t have you in that danger.” He donned his shirt and coat once again, admiring how well they fit over the chain mail for a fleeting moment. “Please, Thorin, we have to go.”

“The lad is right,” Balin spoke up, placing a hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “We have been here long enough. Let us travel to the front gate to see how the rest of Erebor fares.”

There was a moment where Bilbo felt truly afraid of the king for the first time in his life, and it was from the way Thorin stared at him without moving a muscle. He looked ready to pounce, to claim him as he said he wanted to, only it wouldn’t have been by Bilbo’s invitation. The moment passed, however, when Fíli and Kíli joined the group.

“What’s going on?” Kíli piped up.

Bilbo glanced over to see him still clutching a harp, a lopsided crown on his head and an old robe draped over his shoulders. The absurdity of his attire didn’t take away from the brilliant smile on his face, though, and Bilbo relaxed slightly as Thorin’s gaze traveled to his nephew. His hard glare lingered until Kíli’s smile fell, then he turned from all of them and stalked away.

“We make for the front gates,” he said. “Leave your findings here.”

There were a few murmurs along with the sound of gold and trinkets falling to the floor. Nori looked particularly slighted, although Bilbo watched as even he emptied his pockets and followed after Thorin. With a sigh, he was about to do the same before he noticed Kíli hadn’t moved at all from his spot. The lad was glancing down at his harp with a frown on his face as his brother came up behind him and carefully removed his crown.

“Surely you can take it with you,” Bilbo said quietly.

“We have to take stock of everything,” Fíli explained. “Make sure it’s all accounted for and see what we’ve lost. It’s a long process.” He smiled weakly, smoothing down Kíli’s hair. “Soon we’ll have every instrument we’ve ever desired, _nadad._ I’m sure there are some flutes around here somewhere.”

“We haven’t played a flute since we lost them on the way to your home,” Kíli said to Bilbo, although he brightened at the prospect of finding more.

“Should I ask what happened on the way to my home?” the hobbit wondered. The brothers smirked at each other and were just about to share the tale when Bilbo held up his hands. “No, nevermind. I can only imagine.”

As always, the brothers brought him great comfort and he made sure to stay with them as they moved on. They didn’t seem to have much desire in traveling beside their uncle, staying more towards the middle as they passed through the stone tunnels, and Bilbo was thankful for the time away from Thorin. He suspected he would have to become used to it as long as he possessed the Arkenstone. Perhaps Thorin was angry enough with him now that he would stay away as well, and Bilbo had to admit that he wished it were so. It would make it easier, anyway, if they both insisted on avoiding each other. He just hoped it wouldn’t have to stay that way for much longer.

After what seemed like hours− at least to Bilbo− he began to lose track of how long they walked up flights of stairs and across long stretches of corridors. The destruction all around them only increased, although most of it was swept aside or crunched into the ground from Smaug barreling his way through to create a path for himself. As they came upon the main halls, however, the sight of skeletons lying every which way made Bilbo quite upset. Finally he understood the destruction of the dragon, not just on the mountain, but on the lives of those who were unfortunate enough to stand in his way. There was great bravery, for most of the remains had armor and it made him think that they had fought back as hard as they could, but it still hadn’t been enough.

Once they came upon the council hall, there wasn’t much to be found except painful memories and a broken throne. Thorin didn’t comment and barely even spared it a second glance as he led them on to the front gate. They cleared away as much of the rubble as they could. Before they even attempted to set up camp, as much as Bilbo hated to be the one to bring it up, he voiced his concerns over their dangerously low food stores. Upon inspection the rest of the company was surprised to see his words were true, and when they considered their options there was only one thing they could do; set out for Lake-town before they starved to death. They had enough cram to last four or five days, enough to make the journey there, and as loath as they were to leave the mountain they marched back out that day for the town upon the lake.

“Always walking,” Kíli mumbled. They reached the foothils again before nightfall, keeping their eyes on the sky should Smaug make another appearance. “Even when we finally reach Erebor we s _till_ have to walk.”

“Would you rather starve?” Glóin grumbled from behind them.

“Of course not,” the younger prince frowned. “It’s just not how I imagined it.”

“It’ll only be a few more days,” Bilbo said softly. “Then we’ll have some of those biscuits you’re fond of.” Kíli only nodded, but his thoughts seemed far away even as Fíli wrapped an arm around his shoulder. 

They found a rocky alcove to rest in for the night, just sheltered enough if Smaug decided to make an appearance, and huddled close together. Bilbo wouldn’t sleep at all, nor would a few others that feared too much for their lives should they be caught off guard by the vengeful dragon, so he sat wide awake as he waited for morning.

 

\- - - - - - - - -

 

It was on the third morning that they saw the smoke before the fire, but as they were finally afforded a view of Lake-town, each one of them stopped in their tracks to gawk at the scene in front of them.

“No,” Bilbo breathed. “Oh, that horrible beast…”

The entire company fell silent as they watched the burning town dissolve into ash, helpless and dazed at such devastation. Bilbo thought back on all the people he had met, everyone who celebrated the dwarves and offered their hospitality.

_This is what Bard feared,_ Bilbo realized. He thought the battle would have stayed between Smaug and the company, not wanting to believe he would take his anger out on the nearby town. Never again would he underestimate a dragon. He could understand the hatred toward such a creature now, and what had driven Thorin to go on this terribly dangerous quest. 

“But where is the dragon?” Thorin murmured after a time, startling them out of their shock.

It was a good question. They searched the skies, filled with dread at what they might find, but all was eerily quiet.

“He didn’t return to the mountain,” Balin pointed out. “We would have come face to face with him if he had.”

They moved on with haste this time but when Thorin suddenly halted, eyes trained to the sky, Bilbo felt a surge of fear go through him. Thinking the king had finally spotted the dragon, he looked up yet saw nothing until a small shadow passed over them. A big, black bird landed on the ground in front of Thorin, and he watched with a gaping mouth as it actually bowed and began to talk.

“That’s...that’s a talking crow,” he stated.

“Not a crow, laddie,” Balin said from beside him, “but a raven. A very old one at that. His name is Roäc, and his line has aided the dwarves of Erebor for many years.”

Bilbo listened as Roäc told them how Smaug laid waste to Lake-town, and how a single arrow shot from the man called Bard brought the great beast crashing into the lake. The thrush, it turned out, had related the secret of the dragon’s weakness to the man. Just as Roäc said this, as if on cue something flitted by Bilbo’s elbow and landed on the rock beside him. It caused quite a racket until he finally looked over.

“Oh, it’s you again,” Bilbo grumbled, watching as the thrush from before knocked a snail shell against the stone. “You just poke your beak into everybody’s business, don’t you?” The bird looked up, cocking its head to the side, and something in Bilbo softened. For a brief moment he remembered the story of Thorin’s brother, of the kindness he had for the birds, and when he really considered it he knew the thrush had been nothing but helpful. “You’re just like Gandalf,” he sighed, “and I’m sure you know him as well, or perhaps Radagast.” The bird chirped happily at the name, causing Bilbo to chuckle. “Well, I suppose we have you to thank for Smaug’s demise, even if you are nosy. I don’t tend to carry birdseed with me, but if I did...well, you know.” He gestured, causing the bird to cock its head before flying off again with its snail in tow. Bilbo sighed, following it until he could no longer, and returned his attention to the raven once more.

Roäc had finished speaking and watched with old eyes as Thorin as raged over something. He spoke to Dwalin in Khuzdul, gesturing wildly toward the town of men and looking as though someone had caused him great insult.

“What did I miss?” he asked Balin.

“Apparently the men from Lake-town believe we all perished by dragonfire,” the dwarf sighed. “They are planning to march upon the mountain.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not good.”

“No, it most certainly is not.”

They did not tarry long, Thorin bidding Roäc as polite a farewell as he could muster. The raven had tried to advise him against making enemies of the men, but the king wouldn’t hear it, instead commanding the company back to Erebor once more. Bilbo followed with great weariness, his stomach grumbling as a sinking feeling overcame him. It seemed they wouldn’t even attempt to aid the people of Lake-town in their time of great trial, and as a result they were leaving behind their only source of food as well as harming their relationship with the men. Thorin didn’t have diplomacy on his mind, though, his temper a true force to be reckoned with. When Kíli first voiced his concerns about turning back, Bilbo almost placed himself between the two for fear of Thorin raising a hand to the lad. None of them talked to the king after that, frightened that they would say the wrong thing, and Thorin conversed only with Dwalin when he wasn’t mumbling to himself.

What followed afterwards caused Bilbo great anger, and eventually deep sorrow. They did nothing but work on fortifying the front gate once they returned to the mountain. Unable to help, Bilbo sat and watched day in and day out as the company moved about in silence, dragging rubble off to the sides of the hall or using it to fix the gate. They had to follow their king’s orders, for although the dragon was slain they were still his subjects, but the hobbit knew Thorin’s fears of the men storming his kingdom were for naught. What threat could a handful of men who had just lost their home truly pose? In the passing days Bard had indeed led his men to the mountain, setting up camp outside just outside, but they made no move towards them even as the company stared down on them from the battlements. Fíli and Kíli expressed at one point, albeit quietly, a wish to join them for at least they had food. Bilbo couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

Then one day, when Thorin conceded to it, they finally spoke to Bard. Thorin remained as stubborn as ever in his refusal to aid the people of Lake-town, though Bilbo had to admit that Bard could have gone about his business better. Of course the weapons his men carried by their sides and the demand on a share of the treasure would make Thorin view them as even more of a threat! He was a king defending his kingdom, after all, yet as long as he was under the influence of the dragon sickness he would always act defensively rather than tactfully.

That night, when the camps broke and the men left at last, Bilbo sat around the company’s own campfire and brooded. He already knew what he had to do, for if he didn’t take action soon the consequences would be dire, but he so dearly wished that he didn’t have to. Thorin hadn’t talked to him in days, nor had he even spared him a glance. The king was constantly looking for the Arkenstone while the company worked, and a bitter look had a permanent home in his eyes when he came back unsuccessful. He slept by himself as well, although that was something Bilbo had unfortunately become used to. In the hobbit’s own bitterness he felt as if he wasn’t even bethrothed to Thorin, that he might as well take back his promise to marry him, but the thought made him instantly tear up as regret overcame him. Of course he still loved Thorin. The thought of _not_ loving him was worse than the way the king disregarded him, for Bilbo knew Thorin still loved him as well. He had to remind himself that the sickness was not his king, that this could all be fixed if something could snap him out of it, and hopefully the plan Bilbo had in mind would do just that.

After a while a low hum made him look up, turning his weary eyes to where Balin sat. The white-haired dwarf was stoking the fire, but soon Dwalin joined in with his song. He carried the tune as the rest of the dwarves added their voices, and Bilbo followed the warrior’s unwavering gaze as it led straight to Thorin. The words they sang were of great reverence and devotion, of battles fought and of courage that never faded but grew strong with each victory. It took Bilbo a moment to realize Dwalin had started a song about Thorin, and soon the king finally looked over at his old friend. His expression was difficult to read, but as he listened as his company sing of him, his eyes finally softened for the first time in days. It made the breath in Bilbo’s throat catch and he had to keep himself from running over to him.

He stayed where he was instead, shivering after a time and feeling as if the very atmosphere of the hall had filled with the foreboding air of a coming war. When he voiced as much, after the dwarves had ended their tune, Balin glanced over at him and smiled sadly.

“This is but a taste of life in a dwarven kingdom,” he told Bilbo, “and if you are to be Thorin’s Consort then I’m sorry to say that you should expect war to very much be a part of your life now.”

“As long as he always wins,” Bilbo murmured, looking over to where Thorin embraced Dwalin. Despite the change he hesitated to go over to him, still nervous of saying the wrong thing and angering the king.

Eventually he went to his bedroll, curling in on himself as he had done the previous nights. A bitter chill blew in from the gate that had yet to be completed, although the company had hopes of finally being able to restore it to its full glory within the next day. As Bilbo filled his head with boring thoughts about doors in attempt to make sleep come faster he was given quite a scare as someone settled in behind him without a word of warning. He was about to turn his head to reprimand them, but immediately after knew that the furs tickling the back of his neck and the familiar scent that wrapped around him could belong to no other.

The fact that it was Thorin didn’t do much to alleviate his fear. His heart raced as he tried to think of what the king could want, but when a hand closed around his hip he swallowed hard and plucked up the courage to speak.

“Do...do you need something?” he said softly, trying to keep his voice even. Thorin let out a sigh, his hand rubbing gentle circles in a way that started to relieve some of Bilbo’s tension.

“I have neglected you,” the king said. His voice sounded so tired, and when Bilbo turned his head to look at him he could see the dark circles under his eyes. “For that I apologize. I’ve missed your company.” His brow furrowed. “I do not know why I’ve acted in such ways only that…” And here he faltered, his eyes slipping closed and his lips in a tight frown. Before he knew what he was doing, Bilbo turned completely in his arms and reached up to cup his cheek.

“You’ve worried me more than anything,” he murmured. Not wanting to tread any further, still unaware of just where Thorin stood right now, he carefully placed a kiss against his lips before resting their foreheads together. “Sleep. At least for me.” He felt Thorin tighten his hold on him as he let out a shuddering breath, and thankfully the king obeyed without another word.

_Oh, my dear heart,_ Bilbo thought to himself. He watched as Thorin tried to relax, at one point having to wipe a single tear away from his cheek before the king finally slipped into a deep sleep. _To have come so far only to face the enemy within yourself..._

The hobbit too would have cried had he not had something important to do. Once he was completely sure Thorin was asleep, having poked and prodded at him to make sure he wouldn’t wake, Bilbo wiggled out from his arms. Quickly he put his coat on, took the Arkenstone from where he hid it in his pillowcase, and made sure his ring was still in his pocket. Confident that he had all he needed, he risked crawling back up to Thorin and looking him over once more.

"I am sorry," he eventually whispered, gently running his fingers over the king’s furrowed brow. “I hope that you will see reason to forgive me in the end, when all of this mess is sorted.” Tears prickled his eyes, yet still he refused to let them fall. He wanted to say more, but to wake Thorin now would spoil his entire plan. So he placed the lightest kiss he could manage on the king’s lips, pocketed the cloth with the Arkenstone wrapped inside, and stole off like a thief in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys *whispers* guyssss....six days until Desolation of Smaug, and only five for some of you lucky bastards! Unless of course you've seen it already, in which case don't talk to me until after Friday ;P I actually had a dream last night that I saw it, and of course it was amazing. It's going to be such a wonderful thing to come home to after finals. As I shared on Tumblr my university is in the mountains and on the way home I actually drive through the Blue Mountain tunnel. So I'll be making my own journey from the Blue Mountains to Erebor! 
> 
> All right, geeking out over (at least in this space). Thank you for reading, commenting, bookmarking, kudo'ing, and for sticking with the monster that is this story. I didn't get as far as I wanted with this chapter, deciding I should probably cut it off after forty pages, but the next chapter will be the last in "No Quarter" and will cover the Battle of the Five Armies. You know, that thing. I'll talk more about it after the next chapter, but I have plans for a next part in the series called "Slow and Steady" which will cover Bilbo's surprise journey back to Erebor after about two years after the BoFA. 
> 
> I'm going to wish those of you who are traveling home for the holidays a safe journey, and everyone a happy holiday season. Eat like a hobbit, party like a dwarf, and most of all have a kickass time watching DoS! Meet me over on http://pentamatr.tumblr.com/ if you want to talk about it! :D


	6. The Battle of Five Armies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes a final decision with the Arkenstone that changes the course of his future in Erebor, but with battle on the horizon there is a much greater threat to the dwarven kingdom besides Thorin's sickness. A darkness is coming, reaching a cold hand towards the Lonely Mountain and all Bilbo holds dear. Will there be victory in the end or will the hobbit’s luck finally run out, taking his new family with it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks and love to my beta/sanity: cakelydemise

The night wrapped around Bilbo like an ice cold vice, chilling him to the bone as he forced himself to walk quickly across the Desolation. He could barely see the ground in front of him, which made for an all around miserable time considering his current task.

 _Of all the truly horrible ideas you’ve had, Bilbo Baggins,_ he scolded himself, _not least of which involved stealing from a dragon, this must be the worst!_  

At least it hadn’t been snowing. Not _yet,_ anyway.

When Bilbo set out that night he had been surprised at the ease with which he slipped past the other dwarves. Of course his ring was on, and with Bombur half asleep during his watch he was able to walk right out, but still he was thankful. Now he had to worry about freezing to death or losing his way, not to mention what he would do once he got to the camp of the men or how much time he had left to make it back to the mountain by dawn. Well, perhaps the hobbit wasn’t giving himself enough credit in that moment for he _did_ at least have some kind of plan for when he arrived at the camp.

It came to him one day, on a rare occasion when the king hadn’t been searching for the Arkenstone, when Bilbo overheard Thorin talking to Roäc. The raven had spied Dain Ironfoot leading an army of dwarves from the Iron Hills towards Erebor. The news had startled Bilbo at first, not knowing if they intended to fight for the mountain, but soon he realized Thorin was glad that the news of Erebor’s reclamation had reached his kin.

“They are our allies,” Balin later explained to him.

“But they refused to help Thorin originally.”

“Well, I won’t argue with you there. They saw no reason to leave their home, to risk their lives on a fight that would have surely ended most tragically had luck and the skills of a bowman not been on our side.”

“I left _my_ home,” Bilbo said more softly, to himself if anything. Balin still smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You have a lot to teach them, laddie. We’ll be sure they know just who helped us make it this far before they step foot through those gates.”

Bilbo was relieved that Dain’s dwarves meant them no harm. He quickly realized, however, what it would look like to the former inhabitants of Lake-town. Already Thorin had refused to aid them, and then soon they would see a great dwarven army marching right towards them. It wasn’t difficult to imagine that they wouldn’t take lightly to such a thing. Either they would be thrown into a panic or they would retaliate, neither of which would be a favorable reaction.

_And so I have to let them know they can do something that will spare them that “fate.”_

It wasn’t lying, necessarily. He would only play on the fact that they didn’t know any better, that trading the Arkenstone would be enough to satiate their need for a share of the treasure. He didn’t doubt the stone was worth more than all of the piles of gold in the treasure room, or that by handing it over they would leave Thorin alone so that the king’s mind may heal properly without the threat of war looming over Erebor.

Bilbo sighed, his feet crunching through the thin layer of snow on the barren ground. All the more reason to return by sunrise, for he couldn’t allow for the possibility of someone spotting his tracks in the snow. He would have to remember to cover them on his way back.

 _This better work,_ he thought bitterly. At first he had been enamored with the Arkenstone, of the beauty it held and what it meant to hold the heart of the mountain quite literally in the palm of his hand. Now it was just a burden. It sat heavy in his pocket, cumbersome and annoying as it knocked against his leg. Better still as he thought of what it did to Thorin that they would all be rid of it soon. Thorin deserved rest at last and time to focus on restoring his home to its full glory. If that meant Bilbo had to step out of his own comfort zone once again in order to ensure that, then he would do it ten times over if it would help his king. Besides, he would be stealthy and clever. It wasn’t as if he would be found out as long as he put his burglaring skills into action. He was already halfway to his goal, anyway. He had the stone, now he just needed to place it into safe hands.

_Being nervous will only hamper you, my lad. Just do what needs to be done._

This confidence would not stay with him through his entire journey, however. Just when he could see the lights of the tents he started to feel anxious. His heart fluttered like a small bird in his chest, his hands shaking and his breathing shallow. More than once he had to force himself to take deep breaths and for his feet to continue forward. He just couldn’t understand it, but as he drew closer the sound of trickling water from the lake brought his mind back to a place he really had no desire to revisit.

 _I feel as if I am back in Mirkwood. Now why would that be_ _−_

“Oh!” he breathed. Within the next moment he took his ring off and quickly shoved it back into his pocket. “Confounded thing, but you are quite the fickle friend!” It took a while for his vision to clear, for the world around him was dark even without his ring, but on he went with less anxiety weighing on him.

It still took him some time to reach the camp, his stomach grumbling all the while. What he did start to come across were small campfires tended to by figures he couldn’t make out in the darkness. These fires were scattered, but he figured they were set up to keep watch over the bigger campsite. At first he avoided them, wary of what would happen if one of the watchers were to catch him, yet soon he realized the convenience of having someone bring him to Bard instead of wasting time trying to locate the man himself. So that was how Bilbo found himself politely inquiring after Bard one moment and his hands up in the next as two swords were pointing at his chest.

“I don’t mean any harm!” he squeaked.

“Where do you come from?” one of them asked. The voice was strange for a man, more lofty yet sharp as it treated each word with great care.

“F-From the mountain. I am a messenger, and I’ve come to speak with Bard on behalf of King Thorin.”

“How are we to know that you speak the truth?” the other spoke, decidedly female but with the same accent.

“Would I have any reason to lie?”

“You carry a sword with you.” At this the guard took her own sword and poked at Sting, causing Bilbo to jump and back away.

“For my own protection, of course,” he said, shaken but also starting to become angry. “I traveled for hours across the Desolation. Was I to carry nothing to protect myself with?”

“If you are to speak with Bard then we must take it from you.”

“Excuse me,” he scoffed, “but I−”

“It will be returned to you afterwards.”

Bilbo hesitated, hands clenched at his sides and trying his very best to stay calm. This was his only way of seeing Bard and as much as he dreaded parting with his trustworthy sword he knew he had no choice.

“Fine,” he said shortly, unbuckling his belt and handing it over. “I’ll have you know that I will be most displeased if I don’t get it back in tip top shape. That sword has saved my life and the lives of my companions on countless occasions. It is very dear to me.”

“We understand the connection between a blade and its master, little one.”

“My name is Bilbo,” he snapped. Before he even realized what he said, he found himself looking into two pairs of widened eyes. He blushed at his own recklessness, but he stayed his ground. “Please just bring me to Bard. It has been a long night already and I only wish to finish my task.”

The guards led him on, silent the entire way yet still looking down at him every now and then as if they were mystified by his very existence. Bilbo grew to care less about them as they traveled through the camp. His goal was to negotiate with Bard and all that mattered was that they were taking him to the man in a timely manner. He needed to get back in time if he had any hope of returning to Thorin’s side before he woke.

It didn’t take much longer until they came upon a tent, although in the meantime Bilbo discovered that the guards were actually elves. He kept his surprise to himself in favor of keeping his expression stony, but he was thankful the light of the campsite revealed this to him. He felt it was important information to keep in mind that the wood elves had decided to join forces with the men.

Eventually one of them opened the flap and gestured for him to go in. Bilbo was grateful they hadn’t made too much of a show, and just as soon as he walked in they left him to it.

 _They had better not leave,_ he thought grimly. _I’ll hunt them down if they don’t give Sting back to me._

He was surprised at the size of the tent, expecting Bard to have taken larger quarters. Yet he was a humble man. A simple cot lay in the corner of the room, a basin in the other with some scattered essentials for washing but it was the table in the middle of the space that made Bilbo’s mouth fly open, though not because of its size. There stood Bard, but with him− looking very stoic indeed− was King Thranduil! Bilbo almost didn’t believe his eyes, coming up with any number of reasons why the Mirkwood king just couldn’t have been there in that moment, yet there he was. He was without his crown, wearing a simple white gown that flowed down to cover his feet, along with a frown on his lips and brow as he considered what lay on the table before him.

“What brings you here, Master Baggins?” Bard wondered, glancing up after hearing Bilbo clear his throat. Thranduil looked up as well, still frowning even as curiosity entered his striking blue eyes.

Bilbo didn’t know how to respond to the elven king’s presence at first. Surely he was angry at Thranduil for locking up his friends, for taunting Thorin when instead he should have offered his assistance, but at the same time he was terrified of him! Too long had Bilbo spent in his kingdom fearing that he would be found out, that he would have to face the wrath of a king whose only concept of kindness consisted of locking someone in a dungeon for their own good. Bilbo was not fond of him, even if he was an elf. If he was to stand alongside Thorin as his Consort, however, he knew it was important that he didn’t take after his wayward king by shunning the wood elves altogether. He at least needed to be civil.

“I-I come bearing news,” he said. Bard raised his eyebrows, glancing over at Thranduil once before rounding the table to stand in front of Bilbo.

“News from the mountain?” the man asked. “Has Oakenshield reconsidered?

“No.” Bard visibly deflated at that, but Bilbo went on. “Dwarves led by Dain Ironfoot are traveling to the mountain. They know that Erebor has been reclaimed and so they will arrive within a few days.” He swallowed hard. “You will be outnumbered. They will not take kindly to your insistence on a share of the gold.”

“We have a right to it,” Bard growled.

“They do not see it that way.”

“But not all of the treasure belongs to them! When Smaug came he plundered what was left of Dale, stealing our wealth and a great deal of our history. Now he has destroyed everything again, what little our ancestors had left so that we may live on, yet your king would lay claim over what would keep us from starving!”

“He did not have that in mind when he set out, I assure you−”

“I care not for his intent.” Bard shook his head, crossing his arms as his frown− if it were at all possible− deepened. “His actions led to the destruction of our home. Lake-town is no more. Have you not seen that?”

“I have,” Bilbo said softly, “and if somehow I could have prevented that then I assure you I would have.”

“What is done is done,” Bard said, his voice emotionless. “I know you hold no power over his mind, for it is riddled with greed, but if you would truly wish to put right the wrong he has caused my people then you would do better than to threaten me with an army.”

“I...I’m not,” Bilbo sputtered, head reeling, “I’ve come to _warn_ you, not threaten you!”

“Then if that is all I bid you thanks and a good evening.”

“But that is not all,” Thranduil said before Bilbo could protest. He strode forward until he stood next to Bard, towering over Bilbo who then knew how Thorin must have felt when the elven king used his height to gain the upper hand. Hoping he wasn’t glaring, Bilbo met the elf’s cold gaze. “He carries something with him.”

 _Yes, I was just getting to that,_ he thought with a huff. When Thranduil raised an eyebrow Bilbo quickly looked away, cheeks flushing.

“Well?” Bard wondered. “What is it?”

Bilbo hesitated, then when he reminded himself of why he went there to begin with he plucked the Arkenstone from his pocket and held it in his palm for both man and elf to see.

“The heart of the mountain,” Thranduil breathed, eyes glittering in the light cast from the stone.

“It cannot be,” Bard said. His face held awe but also trepidation. “You would offer this stone to us?”

“I would,” Bilbo sighed heavily.

“But it is not yours to give.”

“I was promised a fourteenth share of all the treasure in Erebor. While this may be worth much more than that, it is all I have at the moment.”

Bard glanced at Thranduil, who slowly inclined his head, before his shoulders relaxed and he returned to looking Bilbo straight in the eye.

“What are your terms?”

“Take the stone and demand nothing more from Thorin. Surely it would help rebuild your city. I know of no other jewel worth more than this one.”

“You would betray your king?” Thranduil asked lightly.

Bilbo winced, gazing at the stone in his hand and trying to force himself to see it through.

“I would protect him.” His voice was sharper than he intended and when he looked back up he saw the surprise in both of their expressions. “The stone drives him to madness, and I would have it in safer hands if it means his mind returns to normal.”

“You trust us, then,” Bard said. “Why?”

“Perhaps you more than him,” he answered honestly, gesturing to Thranduil. If the elf felt slighted then he failed to show it. “If only because I at least know _your_ intentions are good. You have a family, children you love.” Bilbo’s voice almost cracked and he had to clear his throat. “When Smaug came did they...your daughters and your son−”

“They are not without a few burns,” Bard said stiffly, “but they are well. I thank you for asking.”

“I do not pretend to know what it’s like to care for ones so young by yourself, but I know what it’s like to care.” He shivered, thinking about what it felt like knowing Thorin and the others had been outside with the dragon while he was safe and powerless inside. Of how it would have felt if instead Fíli and Kíli had been in that danger.

_Focus, Bilbo._

“Are we in agreement?” Thranduil asked, looking over at Bard. The man’s eyes widened as he met the king’s gaze.

“Surely my people cannot wait any longer, but will this give us what we need?”

“You must use it wisely if it is to be so.”

 _Is it possible that Thranduil is even more frustrating than Gandalf?_ Bilbo had to hold back a snort at the thought, all of his emotions starting to get the better of him as the reality of what he was doing came crashing down.

“We will take it,” Bard said.

“W-We have a deal?” Bilbo asked. He didn’t like the way the man’s brow furrowed, as if he was still contemplating what Bilbo thought they had already agreed upon, but then he always wore a grim expression.

“Yes.”

Without another thought, so that he wouldn’t be tempted to resist any longer, Bilbo handed over the Arkenstone. The weight on his shoulders hadn’t lifted from the action like he thought it would. Instead dread curled in his belly and made it churn. For a moment he was frightened he would be sick all over Bard’s shoes, but a few deep breaths later the feeling passed. When he looked up, though, it was to Thranduil now standing in front of him as Bard took care to find a safe place for the stone.

“You haven’t eaten,” the elf king observed. Bilbo could barely focus on his words, not caring for them in the first place but also distracted by the need to flee the tent. “Will you sit with us for a time?”

“No,” he said distractedly. “No, I...shouldn’t.”

_Sweet Yavanna, what have I done?_

“Then please take this with you.”

Bilbo would have turned to leave if it hadn’t been for the gentle hand on his forearm, instead turning to look back down at what Thranduil held out for him.

“What is it?” he mumbled.

“Lembas. It will give you the strength you need for your journey back and for the days to come. If you will accept nothing else from us, I would ask that you use this for your own good health.”

Numbly Bilbo reached out for it, not caring to even inspect it before shoving it in his pocket. He nodded his thanks, turning to leave but was stopped by Bard’s voice calling out to him.

“Do you mean to travel back across the Desolation?” the man wondered, concern in his voice.

“I do,” Bilbo answered impatiently. “I must go back for this plan to work.”

“Will you accept an escort?”

Bilbo swallowed hard, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“I thank you, but no. I bid you both a good night.” He clenched both hands at his sides, taking in one more breath before finally walking out of the tent and back into the night.

“Here you are, then,” he heard someone murmur from beside him. Jumping, nearly frightened out of his skin, he turned and saw one of the guards holding Sting out to him. 

“Oh.” Taking the sword, he fastened it back around his waist with shaking hands. Without sparing them another glance he stumbled off, the thoughts swirling around in his head distracting him from everything else.

He did it, then, he handed over the Arkenstone to someone Thorin had never trusted while his enemy watched on with approval. His heart was heavy and his resolve completely shattered. Without knowing if he had truly done the right thing, especially when he felt such shame, he hoped that Bard would at least keep his end of the bargain.

 _It will all be for nothing if he doesn’t,_ he thought, shivers coursing through his body. He placed a hand over his belly as it turned again. How he could feel so sick without having any food in him was entirely unfair, but still he wondered if he would need to find somewhere hidden. He certainly didn’t want to retch in the middle of the camp, but when he nearly ran into a tall figure in his haste he was temporarily distracted from his sickness.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled.

“That was a very brave thing you did, my friend.”

He froze in place at first, trying to make sense of the voice, then slowly turned to peered up at the tall figure.

“G-Gandalf?” he stammered. Sure enough it was the wizard. Bilbo would recognize his profile from anywhere despite how dark it was that night.

“My dear Bilbo.”

The hobbit snorted, surprising himself but then slowly giving into the hurt that started to wash over him. Gandalf sounded so jolly, so grounded and without a care in the world, as if he hadn’t broken Bilbo completely when he left him to fend for himself.

“I trust you have been getting on well,” Gandalf went on.

“Where have you been?” Bilbo said shortly, voice hitching.

“I told you, I had business to attend to.”

“Do you know what I’ve been through?” His stomach forgotten, he instead focused his energy on letting the wizard know just what was on his mind. “Do you know what you have brought upon me, turned me into?”

“Bilbo,” Gandalf said softly.

“I’m a burglar now!” He threw his arms out, laughing without any humor. “I just stole the heart of the mountain, the one thing Thorin…” He covered his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to force a sob back. “The _one_ thing Thorin has been looking for, and I gave it away. I’m a h-horrible Consort. Or future Consort, I don’t even...who am I anymore?” He felt his knees give out and before he even knew he was falling, he was being led down to the ground by Gandalf.

“Bilbo, you must calm down.” The wizard wrapped an arm around his shoulders, trying to steady his shaking form. “There there. My poor lad, tell me.”

Bilbo leaned into him, tiring himself out as he wept through the telling of everything that had happened since Gandalf left. He hardly had any life in him once he explained the decision he came to with the Arkenstone.

“I know what he’s become,” the poor hobbit whispered, “how the gold affects him so. I just don’t want him to go the way of his grandfather. He has fought too hard for his cause, and with good reason. He is noble, and kind, and I know his heart, but the sickness is too strong. At least with the stone gone he will see more clearly. Or...or he will drive himself mad in the search for it, but he will see reason soon enough.”

He looked up at Gandalf with shining eyes, and he was met with a kind gaze.

“Your courage surely knows no bounds, and your love for Thorin shows in your actions. Perhaps it will work. I have no doubt that I would have done the same so you can take comfort in that, but know this, my dear friend.” The wizard placed a soft hand against Bilbo’s cheek and smiled. “Thorin is blessed by the Valar to have you as his One. I truly did not see it at first, for it is not for me to know but rather to push in the right direction. That Thorin Oakenshield would find his One in the burglar I saw fit for his quest was a trick played on me just as it has been played on you. So don’t blame me,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes. Bilbo couldn’t help but give a sad, watery smile. “However, if I had any way of knowing then I might have spared you the heartbreak, although I do not think that is truly the state of your heart at this moment.”

“I worry that I’ve broken his,” Bilbo said quietly.

“He does not know of the actions you have taken.”

“But if he finds out?”

“You know as well as I that it does neither of us well to dwell on the what ifs and buts in our lives. If that were the case you wouldn’t have left your home and I...well, that is a story for another time. You need to keep hold of your courage, Bilbo.” The hobbit studied Gandalf’s serious gaze, wondering what the wizard had come across in his time away from the company. “A darkness travels East, towards your king and his mountain. He needs you, my friend, now more than ever.”

“What kind of darkness?”

“An army of orcs have banded together with Azog as their leader. He has a son just as deadly and vengeful as he, and I fear the battle that is to come will be one this part of the world hasn’t seen for quite some time. You must tell your dwarves of this, Bilbo, in fact you must go back at once.”

“I know,” he sighed, “I have already been gone for too long.”

“I will see you back safely, and with haste.”

They indeed made great haste on Gandalf’s horse, although the bumpy ride did not help Bilbo much. More than once they had to stop in order for him to empty his stomach and it came to the point where he almost fainted from the exertion of it all.

“My lad,” Gandalf said, “I am starting to fear for your health. Won’t you let me give you something?”

“I’m fine,” Bilbo insisted.

“I don’t think you are.”

“This night has taken its toll on me.” He fished around in his pocket, pulling out the strange food Thranduil gave to him. “I have...I have whatever this is.” It looked to be a strange bread wrapped in a large leaf, but when he broke off a small piece and put it in his mouth he was taken aback by how hungry he must have been for such a plain thing to taste so wonderful.

“When was the last time you ate?” Gandalf wondered, frowning down at him.

“You won’t be happy with my answer.” Bilbo took another bite, his mouth watering and stomach gurgling as it was slowly starting to be filled once more.

“I want you to eat at least half of that before we arrive back at the mountain.” The wizard’s voice was stern as he helped Bilbo back up into the saddle. “It will settle your stomach, for one thing, so that we may return in time. I will see what I can do about providing your stubborn company with more food.”

Gandalf then grumbled something to himself before setting off again. Bilbo was content to ignore him in favor of getting his strength before venturing into the mountain. Dawn had not yet broken, but he could see the sky beginning to turn towards the promise of more light as the horizon took on a softer hue. If Gandalf urged his horse to go even faster for it then Bilbo did not comment, instead grateful for his friend even if he had questionable ways.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“Oi, and just where have you been?”

Bilbo froze, slowly turning to find Bofur walking towards him. He had taken off his ring as soon as he passed Dori, who sat on watch at the time, thinking that he would be safe without it. As he regarded his friend his heart hammered hard in his chest. He wondered if any of the others were awake as well, knowing it was unusual for them to be so before dawn, but Bofur’s smile was enough to let him know he couldn’t have been seriously missed. 

“Just passing water if you must know,” he quipped, trying to keep his tone light.

“All right, there, I was only joking.” To Bilbo’s concern, however, Bofur’s smile faltered a bit. “You don’t look too good, laddie. You’ve gone a bit pale.” 

“I don’t feel terribly well.” Which was an understatement, but his friend didn’t need to know the extent of it. “Think I’ll head back to bed for a while.” 

“Aye. I thought I saw Thorin milling around.” 

“Was he wondering where I was?” His question came out too fast, causing Bofur to cock his head.

“No. Probably figured you just popped out quick. Do you need me to walk you back, Bilbo, you’re worrying me a bit.”

“I’ll be all right,” he shook his head, letting out a shaky breath.

“If you say so. Get some sleep then.”

Bilbo mumbled in agreement, making his way back to the rest of the company. He was bone tired by that point, as well he should be. Walking across the Desolation for hours on an empty stomach only to have faced both Bard and Thranduil...well, if he was comfortable with sleeping for the next week he would have. When he came upon his bedroll, his stomach sank when he saw Thorin nowhere in sight. Of all the mornings to get up before Bilbo. The king had been keeping odd hours, though, and Bilbo was grateful he slept at all most nights.

He slipped into a fitful doze, not quite asleep but enough so that dreams disturbed what little rest he could find. Over and over he found himself handing the Arkenstone to Bard only to have Thorin come upon him and find out what he was doing. The rage that the king expressed was enough to have Bilbo shaking in his own skin, mortified that Thorin discovered his dealings and terrified over what he would do. Then at one point he dreamed he _hadn’t_ given up the stone and that Erebor was reduced to crumbles around the king as he ignored all but his precious treasure. Bilbo watched it happen from afar, his voice mute and his movements constricted. He had no control, no way to talk to Thorin and tell him of the damage he was doing. Worse still Thorin wasn’t even aware of his existence anymore, and that was what made him want to scream.

And he did, or it at least he woke up to the sounds of his own whimpering. His eyes were screwed shut but steadily he cracked them open. There was movement around him, murmurs from the company as they did their normal morning routines yet none, thankfully, seemed to notice his distress. He didn’t know if he had been talking in his sleep, whether he spilled all of his secrets or not, so for once he was perfectly fine with being ignored. Now, though, he wished to be among them. Their friendliness would do wonders for his guilt and aching heart. Soon he was able to pick himself up and he made his way over to where they were passing around breakfast. He took a seat next to Fíli who instantly draped an arm around his shoulders and handed him a bowl of cram, but didn’t say anything. After thanking him, Bilbo tried coaxing him into light conversation.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Not terribly well,” Fíli sighed.

“Why?” Bilbo looked up at him with concern, studying the tension on his brow and the way his eyelids drooped.

“Kíli was tossing and turning the whole night. He hasn’t been sleeping well either, but mostly I’ve tried staying awake just so I can calm him.”

“He isn’t ill, is he? I haven’t been feeling right myself.”

“I don’t think so.” Fíli frowned, looking down at his hands. “I don’t really know what would make him so restless. He’s usually a deep sleeper, with the exception of Mirkwood but at least there he had a reason to be so. We’re safe here, now.”

“Have you asked him what his dreams are about?”

“He says he doesn’t remember, which I’m not entirely sure I believe, but I don’t want to press him about it.”

“He should talk to Óin if he gets worse.” Bilbo was aware that he had the same advice given to him at one point, that perhaps he was being a bit hypocritical, but he at least had reasons for his bad sleep. It was worrisome that Kíli didn’t seem to have any. “If he won’t, then you probably should.”

“One more night and I will,” Fíli said, “even if it’s just to help him sleep better. I would never forgive myself if it was anything worse and I didn’t speak sooner.”

Knowing that it was fruitless to try and tell him otherwise Bilbo only nodded, frowning as he traced a finger around the wooden edge of his bowl.

“Where is he now?”

“Still sleeping. I was going to take his breakfast to him−”

“Don’t let me keep you, then,” Fíli smiled, squeezing Bilbo once before standing. “Oh, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Thorin lately?”

“I just saw him go outside not too long ago.”

He remembered his conversation with Gandalf the night before, about how the orcs were headed for Erebor. The very thought of it made him feel nauseous and he knew he had to let Thorin know soon.

“Bilbo?

“Hmm? Oh…” He looked back up to find the golden prince giving him a strange look. “Thank you, my lad. I’ll see you later.” Fíli still looked confused, but soon turned and let him be. After giving his breakfast one last look− he hadn’t touched any of it, nor did he have any desire to− he set the bowl down and made his way towards the front gate.

Doing his best to ignore his nerves, he’d barely made it without distraction when he realized Dwalin was standing just inside the gate with his back to where Thorin stood outside.

“Was wondering where you got off to,” the warrior said as he approached. He looked relaxed, but still regarded Bilbo with a raised eyebrow and an air of curiosity.

“I’ve been sleeping,” Bilbo shrugged, trying to appear calm. He knew how suspicious Dwalin could be even though he was sure they trusted each other mutually. The dwarf’s loyalties were still and always to Thorin. “Is he well this morning?"

“Aye. Just needed some air.”

“Well I...I need to tell him something important.”

“I’m not stopping you.” Although the look Dwalin granted him was quite peculiar. “Although you look like yer going to be sick.”

“Well, maybe,” he mumbled, shrugging as he walked out onto the battlements. Dwalin’s chortle followed him out.

Letting out a sigh, Bilbo looked on as Thorin stood there staring out into the distance with his hands laced behind his back. He fought the urge to take one into his own and instead quietly stood next to him. The king didn’t look down at him at first, although Bilbo managed a sad smile when he shifted so that their arms brushed against each other.

“How are you?” Thorin murmured.

“Not wonderful. There’s something I need to tell you.” Their gazes met at last, steel blue eyes regarding him questioningly as Bilbo shuffled his feet. “I went out for some air this morning,” he said carefully. “I think being stuck inside without proper ventilation has been getting to me again. I didn’t go far but, well, Gandalf came riding up.” It sounded absurd to his own ears, yet Thorin was still listening intently. “He told me to tell you that an army of orcs have set out, led by Azog and apparently his son.” He swallowed hard. “They’re heading here, Thorin.”

The king considered this, eyes slightly widened, but soon he nodded.

“Did he say how many?”

“No, but it sounds like a lot. I don’t...well, what could they possibly want?”

“Erebor, of course. My head.” Thorin smile was dark and a shudder went through Bilbo. “With Smaug dead they think they can take the mountain for themselves. Fools,” he scoffed. “They want my gold, but we’ll see if they’re clever enough to take it.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo winced, “I don’t think it’s about the gold. It’s as you said, Azog wants you...you know.” He nodded, trying not to think of such a thing but wanting to make the king see reason.

“Gold brings power, and with power comes the ability to rule a successful kingdom.”

“They’re not very intelligent, though. I can’t see them knowing how to handle gold. They’d probably try eating it at first.”

“They won’t pass through these doors,” Thorin growled, “not as long as I am alive.”

“No. Well, that had better be for a good long while.” The hobbit sighed, grateful for the fact that Thorin was more interested in his information rather than how he came about it. He hoped he would act accordingly, though, and not just stay locked in Erebor while the war raged around them. In fact he was about to ask just that when something in the distance caught his eye. “Now what?” he sighed, squinting to see what approached.

“What is it?” Thorin grunted.

“I can’t tell yet, they’re too far.”

“Come back in with me, we’ll ready our weapons.”

“It couldn’t be the orcs, though,” Bilbo said, following Thorin in with a frown. “Gandalf would have said whether they were right on top of us. I suppose he didn’t say exactly _where_ they were,” he added with a huff, “but I don’t think it’s them.”

“It’s not a chance I am willing to take.”

“Of course not.” Walking over to collect Sting, Bilbo listened as Thorin called the company to arms.

“Something marches towards the mountain,” he said, his voice sounding throughout the hall. “Orcs, men, or elves we will be there to greet them with weapons.”

“Orcs?” some of them wondered.

“What makes you say that, lad?” Balin wondered.

“Gandalf told me,” Bilbo spoke up, then instantly wished he hadn’t.

“ _Gandalf?_ ”

“He came back?!”

“When did you speak with him?”

“T-This morning,” Bilbo said. “He left soon after. I don’t think they are the ones who approach us now, though.” He faltered when they started talking over him, but soon fell silent when Thorin demanded they do so.

“I will wait outside until I can see them clearly,” the king said. “The rest of you will stay in and wait for my signal.”

“If you think we’re lettin’ you stay out there by yourself,” Dwalin started to growl, his words met with murmurs of agreement.

“With all due respect,” Dori spoke up, “surely you should not put yourself in that line of fire.”

“Fíli and I will go!” Kíli said, his brother nodding beside him. “We have the best eyesight.”

“I may have you beat there, my lad,” Bilbo smiled. “I could go−”

“No,” Thorin said shortly. “I will not risk the three of you.”

“I could go.” Surprised, Bilbo turned to see Bofur stepping forward with a shrug. “Better me than the line of Durin and our esteemed burglar.” He gave the hobbit a wink before turning to Thorin. “Let me go instead."

Thorin considered him for a moment, his gaze so intense that Bilbo found himself holding his breath.

 _Oh, this is ridiculous,_ he thought, _all he’ll be doing is keeping watch! It’s hardly a dangerous task._

Yet when Thorin finally nodded his head and gave Bofur his orders, Bilbo felt something flip in his stomach. He thought the deal he made the night before would have put an end to the marches on the mountain, although surely it could not have been the men who approached. He trusted Bard, which was why he gave him the Arkenstone in the first place, but it very well could have been elves who sought something else from Erebor.

_As long as it isn’t orcs. Not yet, anyway._

After Bofur went out Bilbo took a seat next to Thorin as they waited, frowning deeply and hoping that Dain would come soon with his army. Perhaps he was the one who approached?

“Have you heard from him?” he quietly wondered, to which Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Dain, I mean.”

“No, not lately.”

Bilbo’s heart sank as he ruled out that theory.

“I hope he hasn’t met the orcs yet.”

“It is possible, but not likely. They travel from different parts, though orc scouts are always around.”

“I just hope they’re all right. We...well, I’m eager to meet them, but I would feel safer knowing that we had strong numbers before the orcs arrive.” When Thorin didn’t answer, Bilbo sighed and placed his hand on his arm. “Thorin, please. I know what you’re thinking.” He was becoming quite tired of how the king closed himself off, and especially with such a threat coming ever closer he needed to know how they were going to defend themselves. “We can’t fight without Dain and his army. It would be foolish to do so.”

“Would you have us hide from the orcs as they storm the mountain?” Thorin sneered.

Bilbo looked down at this, swallowing back a retort.

“You wouldn’t hide, Thorin,” he said gently, “you are not a coward.”

“I would _die_ protecting Erebor.”

_You would die protecting your gold._

“Indeed you would.” Bilbo shook his head, ignoring his thoughts. “That’s what frightens me the most.”

When Thorin didn’t respond, his gaze hardened and his thoughts obviously miles away, all Bilbo could do was slip his hand into the king’s larger one. He wasn’t met with rejection, but affection was clearly lacking.

_What I would give to have all of him back to myself._

Well, the hobbit _did_ give something for just that, only of course the results wouldn’t happen overnight. In fact he wondered just what effect it would have. Before he left the night before Thorin had been himself once more, albeit confused about his own behavior. Yet the stone had been next to him in Bilbo’s pillowcase the entire time! Proximity didn’t seem to matter, then, just as long as it was somewhere in the mountain. Now that it wasn’t, Bilbo was anxious to see if Thorin would notice its absence or would just give up regardless when he couldn’t find it. There was the matter of the gold as well, which undoubtedly affected him, but Bilbo honestly thought that with the biggest of all the burdens gone they would start to make progress. Soon Thorin would realize the power within himself, not due to any amount of gold or to the Arkenstone, but the sheer will which drove him across Middle Earth to face a dragon and reclaim his lost kingdom.

Such were the hopes of a hobbit who fiercely loved his king with all of his heart, but such hope would be pushed to its limits as it endured further trials. It was after some time had passed, when Bilbo was just about to ask if they should check on Bofur, that they heard the sound of footsteps hurrying in from outside.

“Thorin!”

They both looked up, Bilbo’s heart hammering hard as his friend’s voice filled the chamber. He was on his feet before he knew it, hand dropping from Thorin’s to instead reach out and steady Bofur.

“Who is it?” Thorin asked, his voice dangerously low.

“Bard,” Bofur gasped. “He wishes to see you and you…you gotta see what he has!”

Thorin called out something in Khuzdul and the company followed him out except for Bofur, still trying to catch his breath, and Bilbo who had gone completely white.

“Yeh look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Bofur chuckled. When Bilbo didn’t respond, the dwarf looked at him closer. “What’s wrong, Bilbo?”

The hobbit felt numb, in denial of what Bard’s presence could possibly mean and trying to rationalize it even though he knew better.

“What…” He looked down and squeezed his eyes shut. Bofur was the one to grip him now, giving him a light shake.

“Stay with me, lad.”

“What does Bard have?” he asked quietly.

“You wouldn’t believe it, but he has the Arkenstone!”

“He showed it to you?”

“I know stone, and that ain’t no ordinary one,” Bofur nodded. “I’ve never seen it before, but sure as I’m standing here I’m willing to bet my life that he has it. Thorin’ll know, though, I’m sure− are you going to tell me why you look like that or do I have to guess?” But the more Bilbo was silent, the more Bofur’s eyes widened. He was a clever dwarf, really, sometimes too clever and soon he took a step back from Bilbo. He shook his head, his lips in a small frown as he regarded the hobbit with an uncertain look. “No.”

“I may have made a terrible mistake,” Bilbo said. He had no desire to endure Bofur’s disappointment, already making for the front gate. “I’m sorry, I…forgive me.”

“Bilbo, what did you do? Bilbo!”

He did his best to ignore his friend’s shouts, attempting to hold onto whatever resolve he had left. As he jogged back out to where the rest of the company gathered, he could hear Thorin’s voice as he spoke down at Bard. He wormed his way closer to stand at the king’s side, then, fear gripping his entire body. The Arkenstone was impossible to miss as Bard held it up for all to see. The man’s face was grim, his decision obviously made, but for the briefest of moments his eyes flicked over to Bilbo.

 _How could you?_ Bilbo wanted to scream. _Don’t do this to me._

“It was not my intent to dishonor you,” he heard Bard saying, “nor any among your company.” For a moment Bilbo thought the words had been directed to him, and perhaps they were, but the man obviously meant them to be for Thorin. “My people need gold. A single stone means nothing to the men we seek to trade with, although King Thranduil has explained to me what it means to you. I would seek to use it once more to strike an agreement.”

 _This must have been what Smaug felt like when he went crashing down into the lake,_ whispered Bilbo’s delirious thoughts. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t fathom the sight before him. Bard, who Bilbo perceived to be an honorable man, going back on his promise? So desperate was the hobbit to ground himself before toppling head first over the edge that he clung to Thorin’s arm. Perhaps he thought it would be his last chance to touch his king in any way before all was revealed.

“How dare you steal what is rightfully mine,” Thorin growled, “only to use it against me so you can have my gold!”

“I assure you, I did not steal it.”

“You take me for a fool.”

Bilbo could feel Thorin moving but his eyes were locked only on Bard.

_I don’t understand…_

“Thorin, no!”

Balin’s voice from behind ripped Bilbo out of his shock, and he looked up to find that Thorin had his bow in his hands and an arrow pointing straight at Bard. His face was set in the most heartbreaking expression Bilbo was sure he had ever seen. The king looked fierce, of course, bone chilling anger in his darkened eyes yet there was a startling element of fear or perhaps uncertainty in the way his hands shook. It was then that Bilbo knew he did not wish to shoot Bard, that at least some reason was fighting back against the sickness in his mind. What the hobbit did next took no small amount of strength both of body and of mind.

Letting go of Thorin, Bilbo very calmly took the bow in both hands and drew it down. All the while he was looking into his lover’s eyes and trying to communicate his silent plea for him to see reason.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Thorin growled, although he didn’t resist when Bilbo took the bow and placed it on the ground.

“Only it does,” Bilbo sighed shakily. His next words were the hardest ones he had ever spoken. “Thorin, I took the stone.”

There was a collective gasp amongst the company, then complete quiet as Thorin processed what Bilbo had said.

“You,” the king started, his eyes wide with shock before quickly narrowing. He stood stock still, though it seemed his great frame towered over Bilbo in that moment. Or maybe the hobbit just felt impossibly small. “You betrayed me.”

“Thorin,” he said, raising his hands and taking a step back. “Please, let me−”

“This was your plan all along.” Thorin’s voice was a deadly growl, terrifying in its steadiness and ability to make Bilbo tremble. He took a step forward, but the poor hobbit could not back away. As close as he was to the edge, he would surely fall to his death. “Trick the king into believing you’re his One, so you could steal the stone for yourself. I trusted you, and for what?”

“No,” Bilbo winced. “I assure you that I only−”

“ _Liar!_ ”

“Thorin,” came Balin’s voice once again. The king had taken another step forward, looming over him as his eyes flashed with an anger burning so red that Bilbo almost thought he was facing Smaug again.

 _That damnable stone,_ he thought to himself, cold fear washing over him, _it will be the death of us both._

“Listen to him, Thorin,” Balin went on, “hear what he has to say for himself.”

“He speaks not a word of truth,” Thorin said. Two large hands reached out to grip Bilbo’s arms, squeezing hard until the hobbit whimpered. “He is a traitor, a _thief!_ ”

Bilbo closed his eyes, his lips pressed together in a pale thin line. He shook with fear and from the pain shooting through his muscles from Thorin’s grasp, teeth clenched until he was sure they would break.

_This is not Thorin, not the dwarf you love and who loves you._

Whoever he was, Bilbo knew he was about to meet his early death by his hands. Sure enough in the next instant those hands slipped down until they picked him up. In one wild moment Bilbo thought Thorin was about to embrace him, but when he realized he was being dangled over the cliff face terror shot through his body and it was everything he could do to keep from blacking out.

“ _Uncle!_ ”

Bilbo startled, opening his eyes again when he heard Kíli’s voice. He glanced over Thorin’s shoulder and saw the lad’s terrified expression as Fíli struggled to hold him back. The golden prince also looked mortified, blue eyes wide as he looked between him and Thorin.

“D-Don’t let…” Bilbo wheezed, trying to find his breath and courage. He never had been terribly fond of heights, and he truly did not know whether Thorin intended to drop him or just frighten him, although he was doing a magnificent job of the latter. “Please...don’t l-let them see this.” He closed his eyes again, trying to drown out Kíli’s strangled sobs and the voices of some of the other company members who attempted to make their king see reason.

“They will learn from you,” came Thorin’s deadly hiss. “I will make an example of you to my entire kingdom, to _never_ trust a halfling!”

Bilbo sucked in a breath as Thorin shook him again, then cried out when he felt himself slipping.

 _This is how it ends...don’t look at him!_ He forced himself to keep his eyes closed. _Don’t remember him in this way−_

“For all that is still good in this world, Thorin Oakenshield,” a voice boomed from below, “ _put my burglar down!_ ”

“Gandalf,” Bilbo choked out. He looked over his shoulder, though he could see nothing but sky, yet he soon found his feet touching the ground before he was shoved quite violently away. He stumbled, throwing his hands forward to lessen the blow of falling to the ground, but instead he found himself in Kíli’s arms after the prince hurried to grab him. He clung to the lad, burying his face in his coat for a brief moment so he could catch his breath, then turned his head to face Thorin once more.

“So it was you all along,” Thorin was shouting down at Gandalf, “the wizard and his _ferret!_ ”

“Don’t call him that,” Kíli said, his voice strained. Bilbo could feel the lad shaking from head to foot, no doubt terrified of speaking against his uncle. “After everything he’s done for you, a-after declaring him your One you would threaten his life!”

“Kíli,” Fíli said sternly, “don’t.”

“This is isn’t right, Fee!”

“Kíli,” Bilbo breathed, watching as Thorin slowly turned back to face them again. Cold, steel eyes glared hard at him before switching over to the young prince.

“Step away from him,” the king demanded, his voice menacingly low.

“I don’t want you to hurt him!”

“You dare side with one who betrayed me?”

Thorin stepped forward, and in that moment Bilbo feared more for the lad than he did for his own life. There was no telling what Thorin would do, as blinded as he was by his own sickness, even to his kin. So he forced himself to step out of Kíli’s arms, glancing back at him with the smallest smile he could manage.

“Bilbo, no,” the prince whispered.

“Don’t worry for me.” It took all of Bilbo’s strength to say his next words, heart breaking with each one, “I don’t need a dwarfling to protect me. I can look after myself.”

“You can’t mean that!” When Kíli’s tears fell Bilbo had to look down, fearing he too would break and instantly apologize. He had to protect them, though, and this was the only way he knew how.

“You never cared for them,” Thorin snided.

“Please just leave them out of it,” Bilbo said steadily.

“You have already set them against me with your lies!”

“I assure you, Uncle,” Fíli said loudly, “that no love of ours goes with him.” Bilbo quickly looked back up, meeting blue eyes that finally seemed able to mask their true feelings. Or perhaps Fíli was speaking the truth.

“Fíli,” Kíli gasped, “how−”

“Come, _nadad,_ we’ll leave the traitor to his punishment.” For the briefest of moments Bilbo saw regret shining out of Fíli’s eyes, and he knew the golden prince had caught on to his plan. “Uncle will not harm him, but we should not expect to see him again.”

 _Smart lad,_ Bilbo thought with no small amount of relief, _but poor Kíli…_

Fíli dragged his brother back, enlisting the help of Glóin and Nori in order to get him into the mountain before their deception could be exposed. Bilbo was sure the older prince would explain it all to the younger, but he hoped beyond all hope that he would be able to speak to them again.

“Do your lies know no bounds?” Thorin sneered. Bilbo sighed, staring down at his feet as the king spoke. “What have you to say for yourself that I may spare your traitorous life?”

“You will spare him regardless!” shouted Gandalf’s voice, startling Bilbo and making him look up again. “Do not make me come up there!”

“I did it for you,” the hobbit said softly. “I’ve seen what that stone does to you, how it affects you still.”

“The Arkenstone is the heart of Erebor, of my people.”

“And it has taken over yours!”

“Do not raise your voice at me!” Thorin spat. Whatever he said in Khuzdul afterwards, whatever name he called him, made the company around them take in a collective gasp. Bilbo didn’t care, though, for whatever it was no word could convey Thorin’s hatred more than his actions already had.

“Oakenshield!” The voice drew Bilbo’s attention if only for a second, and he glanced down to see Bard looking grimly up at them. “Master Baggins is none of your concern at the moment. I am offering you the stone back in exchange for gold. It is a simple deal.”

“Simple,” Thorin chuckled darkly, still glaring at Bilbo. “Was that what you had in mind, then? Give the man the Arkenstone so that he would trade it for gold?” A hand came up, making Bilbo flinch back as Thorin tried reaching for the braid in his hair.

“Please,” he gasped.

“You always were too clever for your own good.” The king shook his head, his eyes dropping from the braid as his hand went back to rest on the hilt of his sword. “Leave,” he murmured. “I will look on you no longer. You are banished from the kingdom of Erebor, and from my sight as long as we both shall live.”

“What will you do about the orcs?” Bilbo asked quickly. “They come for you, f-for Erebor. Will you hide, or will you fight with the men and elves?” Already he had said too much, but he had to know that his dwarves would take action.

“It is no concern of yours what we do. Already you have proven your disloyalty, your disregard for our home, now be _gone!_ ”

Bilbo stumbled, having to bite back a whimper when he realized there was nothing more he could do. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he nodded before turning from Thorin for the last time.

“Good bye, Thorin,” he whispered.

When it came time to face the rest of the company, he was afforded with faces white with shock while others appeared utterly baffled. Dwalin frightened him, for the glare the warrior had fixed him with let him know just how he felt about Bilbo’s betrayal. Then there was Bofur. As he reached the end of group, right before the path would lead him back down the mountain trail, his friend reached out grip his forearm. He was pale as well, eyes wide and lips moving as he tried searching for words.

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said again.

“But−”

“Let me go. He won’t take kindly to you speaking with me.” Bofur didn’t listen at first, still shaking his head and about to speak before Bilbo said, “please. Do this for me.”

Bofur let go at last and Bilbo was all too aware of the loss of his warm touch. Without another word he turned his back on his friend and followed the path down, shivering and numb from the great sadness that took hold of his entire body. He slipped a few times and had to scold himself for not paying attention to his footing, but when even his feet were shaking it was no wonder he was so unsteady. His thoughts weren’t terribly helpful either, distracting him and making his journey even harder.

_It was all for nothing after all. He hates me and Bard is going to give him the stone back. I should have never done it, never betrayed him, but oh how I hoped it would work!_

Gandalf was there to greet him as he emerged, standing off to the side, and for that one moment he was truly glad to see someone other than a dwarf or a man. He was vaguely aware of Bard still speaking to Thorin, but he walked over to the wizard and looked up at him expectantly.

“Come, my friend,” Gandalf said sadly, putting an arm around his shoulders and leading him over to his horse. He didn’t press Bilbo to talk, didn’t bring up Thorin or how he fared after such an ordeal, and for that Bilbo was grateful. They only climbed atop the horse once again and made their way back across the Desolation to the camps of the men and elves.

The ride was faster than what Bilbo remembered from the night before, but then of course they weren’t stopping every so often for him to be sick. He was also more alert, as if his senses were heightened, and his eyes were still wide from shock as he stared ahead of them.

“You will be given your own tent,” Gandalf said from behind at one point. “When I learned of Bard’s plan some words passed between us, some not so kind ones from myself, but he agreed to compensate for any damage done by his actions."

“I don’t suppose he knows how to heal a broken heart,” Bilbo said. Gandalf sighed heavily and tightened his hold on the hobbit.

“No, my friend. I think he of all men would have healed his own many years ago if he possessed such a power.”

Bilbo snorted but didn’t respond, settling back into the warmth of the only friend who cared for him now. Once they arrived Gandalf led him through the camp, calmly informing him that his tent was not too far from Bard’s. Bilbo cared only for someplace warm, though, and nodded to Gandalf before turning from him.

“I wish to be alone for a while,” he said quietly.

“Should you need anything,” the wizard said before Bilbo could wander in, “I won’t be far. A simple call will do.” Now there seemed to be pity in his gaze, and that wasn’t something the hobbit could handle.

“Thank you, Gandalf,” he said quickly, leaving his friend behind without another word.

Bilbo made sure the flap was tied firmly behind him once he walked into his new place of rest, fearing what he would do if anyone disturbed him at that time. Before he even assessed the tent, he placed all of his belongings including Sting on one of the tables standing off to the side and wasted no time in cooking up some of the provided meat in the small fire that was already blazing. It didn’t even occur to him to be grateful for the shelter or the meal, his mind that was still filled with Thorin preventing him from doing or thinking anything other than taking care of himself physically. He wasn’t doing a very good job of tending to his own mental health by focusing solely on the king’s voice, his expressions and actions that frightened Bilbo and made his skin crawl with with the anxiety they caused, but there was little else he could do other than make sure his body was a least well fed. Thorin would occupy a large space in his head for some time and there was no use in fighting what couldn’t be changed.

He ate his meal with silent tears streaming down his face, eyes still wide as he stared into the fire.

_“Liar...thief!”_

A dragon had called him that at one point, but he never thought those words would come from Thorin.

_“You betrayed me.”_

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. He drew his knees up to his chest, the other half of his meal neglected as he pressed his forehead against them. If he could just come up with some way to remedy the entire mess, to get Thorin to trust him again and believe in what the Arkenstone was doing to him. Bilbo was used to solving problems by now. He would happily spend the rest of his life getting the company out of tricky situations because he was _good_ at it. Going along with them on their journey was the best decision he had ever made giving him purpose and a family to love who loved him in return...

_Well, at least they used to._

He scoffed at himself, trying to burrow further and wishing he could just disappear. Why was he trying to fool himself? What could he do for them now after betraying their king? Even if Thorin was blinded by sickness, there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it. They certainly wouldn’t get rid of the gold and Bard was returning the Arkenstone to them. His plan had failed.

He failed Thorin and that was worse than anything the king could have said to him, any name he labeled him with or hatred he cast his way.

After a time spent sitting in front of the fire, utterly lost and cursing his wretched fate, Bilbo managed to pick himself up and make for the cot placed in the corner of the tent. It was then that he heard the voices from outside. A murmured name that his ears happened to pick up on both peeked his curiosity and made his anger rise above his grief.

Bard had returned.

Bilbo was out of the tent without another thought, blood boiling with unfinished business and a need to have his say. He knew he would confront the man sooner or later, but now that he had his opportunity while his anger was so fresh he was not about to miss out on it. There were no guards around to stop him this time, even if he didn’t have Sting with him, so he wasted no time in marching straight into Bard’s tent. The man was bent placing his pack on the ground as Bilbo stared him down and he must have sensed his presence for he turned to the hobbit with his eyebrows raised.

“You went back on your word,” Bilbo said, voice trembling. “I trusted you.”

“I never meant for him to know it was you,” Bard responded. “You should not have outed yourself.”

“He was about to shoot an arrow at you! Of course I outed myself!”

“You are not responsible for his actions, Master Baggins.”

“I know when he isn’t himself,” he snapped. “He wouldn’t have threatened you if he was in his right state of mind, but he isn’t and so I acted in a way that would prevent an even bigger mess than the one we’re already in.” He watched as Bard inclined his head, the man casting his eyes down in a respectful manner.

“You have my gratitude for saving my life.”

“It was for entirely selfish reasons, I assure you,” Bilbo said shortly. Without anything fighting back against him− Bard was being so infuriatingly calm− all too quickly he could feel the fight start to leave him. He would tell the truth, though, even if it took every last bit of his energy. “I love him and still do not wish for any harm to come his way despite what passed between us. He may resent me now, but I will always act in his best interests. So if you do not honor your dealings with him, if the share of gold in place of the Arkenstone is still not enough for you, then I promise I will make things most unpleasant for you in any way that I can manage.” His voice was weak now, but still he leaned in. “It would not do you well to underestimate me.”

At first Bard appeared to be unmoved by this, but Bilbo could see the slight widening of his eyes as the man regarded him with a small amount of wariness.

“I do not doubt your words,” he said, “for there is reason enough that a group of dwarves trusted you to be among their company. You have my word that no action will be taken against Thorin Oakenshield if he honors our agreement.”

“Your word has come to mean nothing to me, I’m afraid.” Bilbo knew that if he didn’t leave soon he would break down in tears, so his thoughts started to turn toward the flap in the tent that would be his escape. “I still believe you are a good man, but our loyalties are different.” He sighed, shaking his head and finally broke his gaze in favor of looking down at his feet. “I don’t want to threaten you, but I’ll do what I have to for the ones that I love. I know you understand what that’s like.”

“I certainly do, Master Baggins.”

“Then we are done.” Without another word, not deigning to even say a word of good-bye, Bilbo turned and pushed aside the canvas that covered the entrance to the tent. Only someone was there to block his exit. “Oh,” he said, completely surprised to see the youngest daughter of Bard looking up at him with startled eyes. A moment of awkward silence passed between them before Bilbo realized she had dropped her doll in her shock. Without another thought, he stooped to pick it up and offered it with a small smile. “Here you are, my lass.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, hugging the raggedy thing close to her chest. He stepped aside to let her through, weariness coming down on him at once as he watched her go to Bard and wrap her little arms around him.

 _We all have loyalties,_ he thought, tears finally coming to his eyes. _Some that gold couldn’t even hope to measure up to._

As he stumbled back to his own tent, try as he might he couldn’t hold back his sobs and tears flowed freely down his face. A passerby gave him an odd look, but it was one voice and a gentle hand that kindly guided him back to where he needed to be.

“Elrond warned you,” Bilbo said to Gandalf, climbing straight into his cot without removing any of his clothes. His throat was raw, like needles were poking and scratching the whole way down. “He said this would happen to Thorin.”

The wizard looked at him sadly as he pulled up a chair next to him.

“I had as much hope as you did and for a time he showed much promise. We must remember that he is not himself.”

“Of course he isn’t,” Bilbo said shortly. A small cough that made his throat ache even more was enough to warn him against raising his voice again. Instead he buried himself even further into the blankets, tears wetting his pillow. His heartbeat felt rather weak for all of the exertion he had just put himself through. “I just want him back.”

“I know you do,” Gandalf murmured. A warm hand came to rest on Bilbo’s shoulder and in time he felt drowsiness finally starting to take over. “Take your rest for the night, my dear friend. We will talk more in the morning.”

Bilbo would have cried himself sick had it not been for Gandalf’s soft touch. Instead he slipped into a sleep that afforded him a blank mind. After all there was not much for his subconscious to dwell on when his greatest fear already came true. He was allowed a brief respite from his horrible reality, although unbeknownst to both him and the wizard the true horrors were to come within the following day without any regard for the poor hobbit’s current state.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

He slept a long while, waking to an empty but warm tent. The fire had been kept up through the night− he remembered Gandalf staying with him− and more food waited for him beside it. With his stomach still in knots he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep it down, but as he moved towards it in attempt to force a few bites down he heard a most peculiar sound from outside that made him forget his breakfast completely. It sounded like a horn, muted though it was, and it was enough to make him poke his head out of his tent in curiosity.

As he did so he immediately frowned as the sky darkened all around. It was as if swirls of low hanging grey clouds had blotted out the sun, yet strangely they did not seem to be actual clouds. Bilbo could not describe what it was, but truly the one word that whispered in his mind was _darkness_. It was simply a bright winter day one moment and dark the next. Murmurs from around him made his ears perk up, hoping to at least hear others react to the change in weather so he would know he hadn’t gone completely mad. Their words brought no comfort, however, and soon he was quivering with fear as the reality of it struck him.

“A whole army of ‘em. Orcs atop wargs, headin’ straight this way!”

“Gandalf was right,” Bilbo gasped, stumbling back into the tent. “It is as he said− oh!”

“Of course I was right.” The wizard was standing in the middle of the room, giving the hobbit quite a fright. “My apologies, dear boy, but I came as soon as I confirmed it to be so.” He strode towards Bilbo, kneeling in front of him and gently gripping his shoulders. “They must have followed Dain, for even I did not know they were upon us so quickly. I would have led you over the Misty Mountains by this point, or at least seen you safely to Beorn’s.”

“It’s all right, Gandalf,” Bilbo said softly, for he could see the worry in his eyes. “If their movements passed even your notice then I am surprised we aren’t fighting them already.”

“Soon enough,” Gandalf sighed, shaking his head. “I will protect you as well as I can.”

“You needn’t worry over me,” Bilbo smiled sadly. “I’ve managed this far, haven’t I?"

“I always had faith in you, Bilbo. However did you sneak the Arkenstone past Thorin?”

“Uhm.” The hobbit shifted under the weight of his stare. “Just putting some of the things I learned to use, I suppose.” He sighed, looking down at his feet and furrowing his brow. “And all for what?”

“Surely you know that Bard has not been back to the mountain with the stone. He has been too busy gathering what little army he can.”

“And so the Arkenstone is to become lost during this battle,” Bilbo scoffed, “forgotten by men, elves, and Dain’s folk while they fight for more important things like their homes and lives. Perhaps Thorin is better without it, but I would rather have dropped it into the lake if I knew Bard would go back on his word. See if I ever trust anyone after his.” He shook his head. “If I survive, that is.”

“Do you trust me, Bilbo?”

The hobbit looked back up, knowing that he shouldn’t have to think so hard over his answer.

“I don’t know what to say anymore. I trust you more perhaps than anyone else here, but what control do you have over what is about to happen?”

“I can protect you. Please, for all of the wrong that has been done to you on this journey let me ensure your safety.”

“But you have to fight, Gandalf, you must help them! They may not care for me, but I still care about them. I want Thorin to rule Erebor, for Dale to be rebuilt and for the elves to take back the Greenwood. I’ve heard too many stories of how things once were to see it miss its opportunity to return back to a healthy, peaceful land.”

“I care for it as you do, but I fear it is greed that draws our enemies near.”

“It’s not just Thorin,” Bilbo said shortly.

“No, his sickness is not all to blame and it is not something that he can help, but it plays its role. There is much greed for the treasure. Orcs have no need for gold now that Smaug is dead and they desire the power that once came with the kingdom of Erebor.”

“That’s what Thorin said.” He sighed bitterly. “I still don’t know what they think they’re going to do with a bunch of gold.”

“The gold draws them, but it is as you say. They have no real use for it. What Erebor will bring them, however, is a stronghold in this part of the world. If we lose then the people of Lake-town will be no longer or perhaps even enslaved, while the elves of Mirkwood and the dwarves of the Iron Hills will be at constant war with them. I fear there may not even be peace if we _do_ win, but we will worry about that when the time comes. For now if you insist on staying you will need armor.”

Bilbo didn’t press any further about why Gandalf was pessimistic about the aftermath of a victorious outcome, too tired to worry about his riddles. The wizard produced a helmet for him which he tried on with trepidation. It was heavy and slid back a bit, though he supposed it was better than having a bare head. He was quick to inform Gandalf that he was already covered when he attempted to offer him a breastplate.

“Whatever do you mean?” When Bilbo showed him his mithril, Gandalf’s eyes widened and he hummed lowly. “Mithril. Did you steal that from Erebor’s treasure room?”

“Of course not,” Bilbo scoffed, tracing his fingers over the smooth metal. “It was a gift from…from Thorin.”

He was starting to become accustomed to the tightness in his chest every time he thought of the king, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Thorin gave you mithril armor,” Gandalf repeated, his voice reverent. “From the pile of treasure?” Bilbo nodded. “Well, I daresay there is hope for him yet. That is no mere gift, my boy.”

“I know that,” Bilbo frowned, crossing his arms. “He’s in there somewhere, enough to remember my betrothal to him as well as how much he values my protection. I won’t give up on that, on him, even if he can’t see it for himself.”

Gandalf’s smile was sad, but Bilbo could tell it wasn’t pity that shone out of those grey eyes. He would dare to call it admiration although he didn’t bother to comment on it.

“Well,” the wizard went on, “I am glad for it. My mind, at least, it at ease knowing you wear it. We must move quickly, now. There is a place for us to go that will afford protection for you and a vantage point for myself.”

“Where, Gandalf?”

“The dwarves call it Ravenhill and if we make haste we will reach it before our enemy does.”

With little to collect other than to buckle Sting to his waist and make sure his pack was secure, Bilbo quickly followed Gandalf off without looking behind even once. In a way he was relieved to leave the camp behind, for there was nothing there for him, and even if the mountain wasn’t their destination he still felt better heading in that direction. For a time he could fool himself into thinking they were returning to Erebor. That way he could warn Thorin that the orcs would be on them at any moment.

“I do not think he intends to fight,” Gandalf murmured from beside him, as if reading his thoughts. At this point Bilbo wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“What will happen if he stays in?” Bilbo wondered.

“If the battle is manageable then nothing.”

“But you don’t think it is.”

“No,” the wizard sighed, “I do not. Thirteen may not be many, but we will need all that we can. I daresay without your company behind us we will be sorely lacking in skilled warriors to guard the gates of Erebor. If the orcs break down the gates then they will not have a chance of survival. They will be cornered.”

“If they come out into the open then at least they will have others fighting beside them.” Bilbo knew that was the better option, but Thorin was too blinded to realize that.

“It would be good to show the others they are willing to stand beside them in battle as well.”

“You’re always thinking about diplomacy, aren’t you?”

“You have seen firsthand what becomes of those who do not.”

Bilbo almost stopped in his tracks at that. Indeed, he faltered until he almost tripped, affording Gandalf the sharpest glare he could manage.

“Now that was cruel.”

“I am sorry,” Gandalf said. “That was uncalled for.”

“You know he can’t help it.” Although he knew the regret in his friend’s eyes was sincere, it wasn’t so easy to calm the anger that threatened to overcome him.

“Indeed. I should know better than to dismiss one who suffers from a sickness of the mind. I confess these past few weeks have taken their toll on me, but that is no excuse.”

“He does not deserve it,” he went on, “not when he’s so…”

_Confounded tears._

He faltered, sniffing hard and wiping angrily at his eyes until movement off to his right made him look over. Gandalf was offering him a handkerchief along with a sad smile.

“Never forget your kindness, dear Bilbo, nor your loyalty,” he said. “This world is much better off for it.”

He accepted the words and the fabric with a nod, blowing his nose and continuing to follow the wizard on in silence. There was not much else he cared to say, trying to forgive his friend and keep his mind from wandering down darker paths, but soon enough there was enough to distract them as they came upon Ravenhill at last. They climbed up the guard-post until they reached the top. It was there, to their utmost surprise, that they came upon Roäc with his head tucked under his wing.

“Gandalf,” Bilbo said quickly, “he can’t see me. He’ll tell Thorin I came back!”

“I doubt he would and if so, what difference would it make? You have not returned to Erebor.”

“But this is part of it! The dwarves built this post for the ravens since they are allies with−”

“You are not mistaken, Master Baggins,” came a harsh voice. Bilbo nearly jumped out of his skin as he watched Roäc raise his head and fix him with two beady eyes. “This is indeed in the territory of Erebor, as is the surrounding land for that matter.” The old raven slowly spread his wings, shaking them out once before carefully retracting them. “Why have you returned when King Thorin banished you?”

“Bilbo Baggins is under my care, Roäc son of Carc,” Gandalf said, removing his hat and nodding respectfully.

“Tharkûn,” Roäc cawed after a moment of staring at him. “It has been one hundred years since we have last met.”

“Something I do regret, but it is wonderful to see you well.”

“I am old.” The raven ruffled himself before picking at some of his tail feathers. “I feel it every day. You should know, wizard, that the hobbit cannot stay.”

“Begging your pardon, but war is upon us.” Gandalf glanced over at Bilbo before continuing. “We have no intention of returning to the mountain, just to seek refuge until all has passed.”

“Where will your journey take you after that?”

“To the Shire,” Bilbo answered quietly. “To my home far away from here. You’ll never have to see me again.”

Roäc looked up again at that, cocking his head to one side.

“A pity,” he said. “I did not think you would leave so easily.”

“B-But you just said I shouldn’t be here!”

“Indeed not, but I expected more of a fight from one as high-strung as yourself.”

“I beg your pardon−”

“The stories I hear some of the dwarves tell of your bravery are quite interesting, and that little thrush will hardly keep quiet about you.”

“Wait...the dwarves. They still speak of me?”

“When Thorin is not near.”

“And the thrush.” Bilbo couldn’t help but smile at that, not quite able to believe his ears about that one.

“You have caused quite a stir, Master Baggins. So if what you say is true−” at this he looked at Gandalf “−if you truly intend to leave after the battle, then I will not tell Thorin of your presence in Ravenhill.”

“My dear friend,” Gandalf said, “I thank you.”

“I must be off,” the raven said, nodding once before spreading his wings to take flight.

“Wait, b-before you do!” Bilbo said quickly, holding his hands out. “I thank you as well and...well, how is Thorin? How you spoken to him lately?”

“It is not my place to disclose information about King Thorin to those he deems as traitors.” At that, Roäc turned his body to the window, hopping out onto the ledge and giving a great “caw!”

“Give my regards to the thrush, then,” Bilbo said moodily, instantly regretting it as he watched the great raven catch a nearby gust of wind. It wasn’t his fault he was doing his rightful duty.

“You did not think your friends would forget you so quickly, Bilbo.” The hobbit turned to Gandalf. “Not after all you have been through together. Of course they will still speak of you.”

“Speak, yes, but in a way I wish to be remembered by?” He leaned against the windowsill, tilting his head back and sighing deeply. “I don’t think so, Gandalf.”

“You would be surprised,” the wizard said cryptically. He started murmuring to himself and to his staff after that. Figuring he was preparing his spells, Bilbo left him to it and instead occupied himself with his own thoughts as he peered back out of the window.

Time crept slowly on, and when at last the battle broke out it wasn’t in any remarkable way. At least from what Bilbo could see from where he stood it was as if it all happened silently and in slow motion. The army of orcs rode towards the men and elves, who stood impressively still with their weapons at the ready. Of course, they could have been frightened stiff which was what Bilbo would certainly be like if a group of orcs charged towards him, yet it was only until they clashed that he could see just how bloody the battle was going to be. It seemed they all underestimated it in some way. He was used to smaller groups of orcs when he was with the company, as did the men and elves in their past skirmishes. This, however, appeared to be neverending. Their enemy stretched as far as the eye could see, and that was saying something considering how keen hobbit eyes were.

“Gandalf,” he said, voice tight as he watched some of the first killings on both sides.

“I know, my lad. Let us hope it will be over quickly.”

It wasn’t, of course. The battle dragged on past midday and into early evening. Not that Bilbo grew bored− he was on edge the entire time− but with Gandalf able to lend a hand with the magic from his staff the hobbit felt useless as he stood there watching. He didn’t know the first thing about true battle and would have perished early on if he attempted to fight in this one, but surely he could have done _something_ with his ring on. He didn’t exactly feel like explaining his ability to become invisible to Gandalf, however, and didn’t want the wizard to focus his worry on him anyway. There was also the matter of him wanting to use his ring only in dire situations now. He didn’t like what it did to him. As tempting as it was to slip it on or to even hold it he knew his relationship with it wasn’t dissimilar to what gold and the Arkenstone did to Thorin.

 _Nori was right,_ he thought, remembering his conversation with the dwarf. It did hold a certain sway over him that not only made him more paranoid but possessive as well.  _I am properly tired of gold right now._  It caused nothing but trouble, and the battle below him was more than enough to prove that.

A scream caused him to glance down instinctively, just in time to see a man being beheaded by an orc.

“Oh,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. The scene played over and over until he had to force himself to think of something, _anything_ else.

So naturally Thorin came to mind. Not a sick one, not one who scorned and threatened him, but one who regarded him with such kindness that Bilbo lost his breath for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time Thorin smiled, let alone smiled at him. It was a nice memory, if short lived, for soon he was saddened by the fact that he would probably never see Thorin or his smile again.

His heart ached at the mere thought of leaving Erebor behind for the Shire. Even if he didn’t think much about what he would do should he survive all of this, he knew he had no other option. Surely he would be sentenced to death by Thorin should he attempt to speak to him again. It would be foolish to walk into the mountain.

_But what if you went unseen?_

Bilbo shook his head. No, he couldn’t use the ring in that way. It would be Mirkwood all over again were he to sneak around the corridors of the kingdom with his ring on the entire time.

_You could help Thorin, though, figure out how to heal his mind._

Even if he knew how to do that the danger was much too great. It would only take the wrong dwarf to find him out, and he wasn’t even sure if the entire company despised him now. He had no friends left among the dwarves.

_You’re just making excuses−_

“I’m just being sensible,” he whispered harshly.

The strange thoughts faded until he wondered just where they came from in the first place. He knew better than to think he could stay. Perhaps if Thorin hadn’t banished him he would have tried going back to made amends, but under the influence of the gold sickness or not Bilbo certainly knew Thorin to keep to his word. All dwarves were like that, he had come to learn. The Thorin he loved had promised to never harm him, but whoever it was that was inside that mountain would equally keep their promise of punishment should he disobey.

Bilbo shook his head, opening his eyes again and looking towards Erebor. It was strange to be so disconnected from the company at that point, not even knowing who Thorin was anymore or how he treated them. He thought of Fíli and Kíli, if the princes forgave him for his actions. He hoped Kíli wasn’t being too stubborn in his loyalty to Bilbo, if indeed he was still loyal at all, and that Fíli was able to convince him to keep quiet. It was certainly best if they kept to themselves on the matter. They were in too dangerous of a position to go against Thorin. Just the thought of the king banishing them made Bilbo pale, never mind raising a hand or even a weapon to them in his madness. He knew he did right by them in their parting, as much as it pained him, but how he longed for their sweet smiles as well.

Surely he would go mad thinking such things without being able to do anything about it, so it was fortunate that what happened next would shake him out of his state of sedentary anxiety and into one of action. As he gazed upon Erebor, he was shocked to see the front gate slowly open. At first he thought his eyes had been playing tricks on him, but there it was; the giant gates indeed were swinging out in just the way the dwarves repaired them. Then…oh, then what he saw next made his heart stutter hard.

Thorin came first, bursting forth from the front gate with Orcrist gripped in both hands. If he had been any closer, there was no doubt in Bilbo's mind that he would have heard a great battle cry coming from the king as he led the company out of the mountain and onto the battlefield.

"You foolish dwarf," he gasped, covering his mouth with both hands, "but now you're my foolish dwarf once again."

It was true, for as much as Bilbo feared for the life of Thorin, of Fíli and Kíli, and of his friends in this horrible battle he was proud to see that they didn't choose to hide away. This indeed was the company he had come to love, swords and axes raised high as they met their enemies head on. He wouldn't have them any other way.

 _And my place is with them,_ he thought confidently. A quick glance behind showed him that Gandalf hadn't noticed the company leaving the mountain, but if he wanted to join them he had to act fast.

His ring was on before he could think on it any further, offering a silent apology to Gandalf as he slipped past him.

_Forgive me, my friend._

He had been doing that a lot lately and he hated how he was making a habit of hurting the ones he loved. Still, at this point he would rather die than let Thorin fight without him, so he would make amends later.

If there _was_ a later, of course.

Without so much as a plan but with a fierce loyalty burning in his heart, the hobbit crept out of safety and into the inferno of battle. He had to be careful as he walked along, dodging weapons even as he went unseen, and more than a few times he had to stick a few orcs with Sting to save the lives of the men, elves, and dwarves around him. It was like nothing he had ever been through, although he was having flashbacks to when he was up the pine trees with the company as the orcs cornered them from below. This was right in front of him, though. It difficult to tell at times who was who, although the dwarves were oftentimes the most distinctive. He knew their allies, though, even if he never met them before.

As he went along he did his best to keep his eyes trained forward, slipping in the blood and the mud. He didn’t even want to know the state his feet were in. From what he could tell the company mostly stayed around the base of the mountain, though from time to time he was no longer able to count thirteen. He told himself it was only because they started to become separated, that of course his view was blocked from everyone else around him, and that it was much too early to assume the worst. He wouldn’t hear of it. The company was strong, unified, and they would see this through to the end as one.

“Someone moves unseen,” a voice hissed.

Bilbo startled, stopping in his tracks as he looked around. It wasn’t a very wise decision for he was nearly impaled by a rogue orc slashing every which way, but he couldn’t shake what he had heard.

“Yes, I saw it too. Dropping like flies without anyone on the other end!”

“They have a secret weapon.”

First it didn’t occur to Bilbo why he could make sense out of what the orcs were saying− although later he knew it was because of his ring− but the fact that they had caught onto what he was doing filled him with dread. He had to stop killing them or else they would find him, and no doubt if they were clever enough they would start following his footprints. Orcs were many things, but if one positive thing could be attributed to them it would be their uncanny ability to track in even the most difficult of terrains.

It was difficult for Bilbo to bypass those who needed his help, but he kept telling himself that the company needed him. He wouldn’t care if the orcs found out about him once he reached them. Perhaps he would even take off his ring once he did. Thorin would not be pleased to see him, but he couldn’t say anything about Bilbo lending his blade. Maybe then he would remember just how devoted the hobbit was to him.

“In any case,” Bilbo murmured as he walked on, “I won’t let them have you.”

“Is that the best you’ve got?!”

“Don’t encourage them, Ori, or I’ll march you back into that mountain myself!”

“Really, Dori? _Really?_ Give the lad a break, wouldya?”

Bilbo smiled as he turned to find Dori, Nori, and Ori fighting nearby. He was surprised at how their bickering was practically music to his ears. His relief was short-lived, however, when in the split second Dori and Nori had their backs turned Ori was facing down one of the biggest orcs Bilbo had ever seen. It wasn’t quite as large as Azog, but was certainly as pale and ugly. Ori did well holding his own, swinging around what Bilbo could have sworn was Dwalin’s war hammer. It was clear he was in danger, though, and so Bilbo made his way over to the lad. He snuck up behind the orc just as it raised its mace high above its head, slashing at its calf and causing it to stumble off to the side. It let out a howl, looking around in vain for its attacker, but to no avail. After his initial shock, looking almost right where Bilbo stood Ori was smart enough to dart away, grabbing his brothers and leading them away from the large orc.

“After the little one!”

“No you don’t,” Bilbo breathed, readying his sword and facing down any orc that chased after the lad.

It was a daunting task to be sure, one that Bilbo wasn’t entirely ready for. Since he had been the one to anger the orc he would take responsibility for his actions. He was doing a fine job of at least injuring the them, but he became tired too quickly. If he had been a better fighter he would have known to pace himself, how to swing his blade in ways that didn’t exhaust him. As it was, he was panting by his fifth orc with a stitch in his side. That was when he faltered.

It wasn’t by the sword or mace of an orc that did it, but something hard crashed into the exposed part of Bilbo’s head that made him stumble. At first he didn’t know what happened. He brought a hand up to his brow, blinking hard and groaning as the action caused a sharp, stinging pain that temporarily blinded him. He stumbled, attempting to find refuge where no one would step on him, and somehow he managed to huddle up to one of the rocky hills jutting out from the mountain.

“Not good,” he whimpered, his vision blurring. His head drooped as he fought to stay awake. It was a shame he didn't last longer, but at least he did what he could. In all honesty he knew he wouldn't make it terribly far. It hurt, for he had desperately wanted to reach Thorin, but it was not to be. He only hoped whatever the outcome of the battle was he would see his king again.

Something from overhead caught his attention and he picked his head up one last time, squinting as he watched a shadow pass overhead. He would have written it off as his own fading mind but a familiar cry made him gasp as one word came to mind.

“Eagles,” he murmured, “the eagles.” He took in a shuddering breath, somewhat delirious but knowing this new information was important. They would win after all, there was hope! “The eagles are coming!” he cried one last time before slipping into unconsciousness.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

The world was dark when Bilbo finally came to. It took a moment for him to realize it was due to his eyes being closed, but next came the pain that made him wish for sleep once more.

"Ugh." He groaned, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes before reaching up to assess the damage. Right above his left eyebrow and up to his hairline was a sticky wetness that made him cringe. He knew it wasn't good, whatever happened to him, but he couldn't remember how he got to where he was.

Slowly, when he didn't feel as if he would be nauseous, he crawled up to sit with his legs drawn to his chest. Taking a deep yet shaky breath he looked around. Everything was tinted grey and it took him a moment to realize that the figures around him were actually fallen elves, men, orcs. He shivered at this and wrapped his arms around his knees. The battle came back to him in confusing moments until he was able to piece some of them together before he had a vague idea of what led him to waking up in the middle of such carnage. As soon as he did, however, he soon wished to be away from it all, to forget and go back to sleep for a good long while.

 _How dreadful,_ he thought, resting his chin on his knees and closing his eyes. He really wasn't feeling feel, his head spinning and his stomach starting to churn again, but he knew he couldn’t stay. The stench alone was enough to make him sick, not to mention the sight of the slain bodies he knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid once he started making his way back to the tents. If the tents were still there, of course, but he knew whatever the outcome of the battle there surely had to be some set up for the wounded.

Bilbo frowned, not wanting to think of any of his friends being among them. It was inevitable, however, for his mind to stray to certain faces. He could feel his heart skip a beat when he thought of the company, of Fíli and Kíli and…

“Thorin,” he whispered. Carefully he climbed to his feet, swaying dangerously and would have blacked out had he not been so determined. After remembering how the king charged into battle, Bilbo needed to know that he fared well in the end. He still loved and cared for him even if the feeling was no longer mutual.

His heart skipped another beat at that moment, but when it returned he felt a stabbing pain in his head in time with his pulse and he stumbled back down to the ground. He clutched his head, panting hard and trying to will the pain away. It was a discomfort like no other. He found himself wondering if something was seriously wrong with his head, then realized he very well may have had a concussion from whatever it was that knocked him out to begin with.

“Bother it all,” he huffed, whimpering as he stood again and forced himself onward. It certainly wouldn’t do him any good to fall again among the many bodies. He would never be found, and now that he suspected his head was worse than he originally thought he feared he may never wake if he were to lose consciousness again.

It took him some time before he was able to focus on his feet instead of the pain in his head. He picked his way through the battlefield, trying very hard not to look at the faces of the fallen. It was not how he wished to learn of the demise of anyone he knew, friend or otherwise. Bard had upset him but he still wouldn’t have wanted to see him in such a way, and he surely _would_ pass out if he saw anyone from the company. He was walking away from where they fought, though, and he had never made it to the gates of Erebor to begin with. He could only hope that they made it until he would know for certain once he was able to talk to someone.

He was about halfway across the Desolation when movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn fast, one hand on Sting’s hilt and the other still clutching his head. A man was also picking his way through the bodies and headed in Bilbo’s direction. He had a thick bandage around his head so his identity was indiscernible, but as he got closer Bilbo soon gasped.

“Who’s there?" the man immediately asked, holding his own blade out in front of him.

“Carnyc?”

“ _Bilbo?_ Is that really you?” The look of shock on Carnyc’s face would have been comical had situation not been so dire. “Where are you?”

“Over here!” Bilbo scoffed, wondering if the young man’s bandage obscured his vision. When he was close enough that he should have been able to see him, however, he frowned and wondered if Carnyc had some unseen damage. Then he realized his own vision was still odd, the world the same grey it appeared when he first woke up.

“Are you buried? I really can’t see you, Master Baggins, you must be stuck somewhere.”

“No, I’m…” Bilbo sighed, taking off his ring and quickly pocketing it before stepping forward. “Right here.”

“Eru!” Carnyc jumped back, eyes wide as he regarded Bilbo with no small amount of awe and just a bit of wariness. “How did you do that?”

“I’m not really in much of a good mood to answer that, lad. What are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you! Many are still searching for you, as the wizard Gandalf requested. Well,” he faltered, suddenly frowning, “I _say_ request. More like threatened, but I was anxious to see how you made it.” Carnyc peered closer at him, bringing a hand up to very gently prod at the skin around the laceration to Bilbo’s forehead. When the hobbit hissed, the man nodded once before taking his hand. “Come along, then, if you will. We need to get that tended to.”

Without much protest, Bilbo allowed himself to be led along the way. At least Carnyc knew where he was going, and Bilbo couldn’t deny the relief he felt at having a companion to lean on.

“How did it all end, then?” he wondered quietly.

“Well, the eagles helped a lot,” Carnyc explained. “We were quite relieved to have them on our side. Watch out for that orc head.” Bilbo groaned, sidestepping the foul thing as the man continued. “Of course we weren’t without our fair share of casualties.”

“I can see that. Did you, well, lose anyone?” Carnyc’s silence was enough of an answer. “I’m sorry, I−”

“My mate, Anwyn,” he said. His voice was suddenly thick with emotion, although he still did his best to smile. “Fierce, she was, always bested me when we sparred. She was happy to defend her home, but I wish she would have stayed behind with me. I knew neither of us were cut out for it, no matter how good she was or how decent I am. Still, though, there weren’t many who chose to stay. Maybe I should have fought with her.” Carnyc trailed off, his eyes glassy as he wiped at his nose. Bilbo gently squeezed his hand.

“You both did what you had to do and we are all the better for it.”

“Still, I imagine I’ll have a great deal of regret to cope with.” The man paused, worrying at his bottom lip even as a few tears spilled down his cheeks. “There is something I should probably tell you.” Dread almost immediately filled Bilbo at these words, but still he continued on with walking at Carnyc’s side. “I’m not sure how close you were with those dwarves you traveled with on the boat, although since you weren’t with them during the battle I suppose you eventually went your separate ways.”

“Carnyc,” Bilbo said steadily, staring out in front of him almost unblinking. “Please just tell me.”

“Those two brothers. I don’t remember their names, but they were nice. One was blonde and the other brunette...well, I heard they fell.”

It was at this that Bilbo stopped completely, his hand slipping out of Carnyc’s even as the man continued on. A moment passed before he looked back to find the hobbit standing stock still, staring up at him with a serious gaze.

“Are you sure?” Bilbo asked. He wasn’t aware of much else in that moment, only studying Carnyc’s face for a trace of uncertainty or jest.

“No, I...I’m quite sure of it. I heard one of the other dwarves talk about it. I don’t remember details because it was right after I learned about Anwyn, but I would not joke about such a thing. Bilbo?”

There was a great rushing in Bilbo’s ears, his heart hammering hard as if he had taken off running, and his limbs felt like soggy noodles as he fell to his knees.

 _Fíli...Kíli,_ his thoughts echoed. His lads, his sweet princes...fallen? So that meant…

“No,” he gasped, his throat constricted. “It cannot...no, just…” He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to respond even as Carnyc knelt in front of him and gripped his shoulders. It didn’t make any sense! How could such a thing be? No, no it wasn’t right. He opened his eyes again, stumbling to his feet and dragging himself forward.

“Bilbo,” Carnyc said, “stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Let me go,” Bilbo mumbled. Why did his feet feel so heavy?

“Please, just calm down.”

“I am calm.” He was. He would find out for himself if Carnyc’s words were true. The pounding in his head only increased, but he didn’t have time to focus on the pain. He would see his lads once more, safe and sound with only a few scrapes and bruises.

“Bilbo.”

They would smile at him, laugh at his worrying.

“Please let go, I need to see them.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes I am, I’m going to go see−”

“No, I mean, look down. You’re not walking, Bilbo, you’re dragging yourself across the ground!”

It was enough to surprise Bilbo, indeed making him look down to find that the ground was much closer than he expected. Odd. No wonder his feet didn’t feel as if they were working.

 _All right, then just pick yourself up,_ he thought. When he tried, however, it was as if his legs didn’t even attempt to respond. He fell to the ground panting, frustration overcoming him as he glared up at Carnyc.

“What in the name of Eru is going on?” he asked. He didn’t like the terrified look on the lad’s face, and instantly he was reminded of Kíli. They shared the same hair color. Even their eyes were similar, although Kíli’s held much more mischief and a certain twinkle that never failed to bring Bilbo cheer.

“Kíli,” he muttered, “I have to see if...please let me go.”

“Master Baggins,” Carnyc said steadily, a firmness now in his voice. “I think you’re in shock.”

“Me? Why would I be in shock?”

“I told you, Fíli and Kíli fell in battle. They were defending their uncle, Thorin I think, who also died−”

“Just what do you think you’re playing at?” Bilbo asked angrily. His words were madness! Thorin couldn’t have died, he was _Thorin!_

“I think you have a fever as well,” Carnyc tsked, feeling his forehead. “I really need to get you to−”

Bilbo quickly scuttled away from his grip as if his very life depended on it, staring at him with wide eyes as sweat dripped down his face. He hadn’t been hearing things right. Why was this strange man telling him Thorin was dead? Instantly suspicious, he stood up and walked right past him.

“I will have none of your silliness, good sir,” he said airily, looking off into the distance. There, he could just see the tents the men and elves had set up. Thorin would be in one of them, next to Fíli and Kíli. They would all laugh and smile at his...at his worrying. “I don’t feel very well,” he suddenly murmured. Bilbo felt himself floating down, landing in the arms of his companion who wore the deepest frown when he stared down at him.

“Bilbo,” he man said gently. “They are dead. I’m sorry, truly.”

“No,” Bilbo keened. “No, I won’t−”

“I’m going to pick you up now.”

“Please, I just…” He felt his head roll to the side, eyelids fluttering as they became quite heavy. “I just want to see them. Take me to them.”

If there was a response then it was muffled, and Bilbo’s vision soon became completely black as he faded once again into darkness.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“...lucky if he wakes soon.”

“Thranduil said...only a small wound.”

“But he is a small fellow.”

A soft groan left Bilbo’s lips as his eyes fluttered, brow furrowing as the voices grated on his nerves.

“S-Stop,” he gasped, throat impossibly dry. They fell silent immediately and when he cracked one eye open he saw two elves staring at him in shock before one held a cup up to his lips.

“It is only water,” the elf said. Bilbo was thankful for it until he took to it too fast and was sent into a coughing fit. “Steady, _pen tithen_.” A gentle hand rubbed his back until he could catch his breath again. His resulting headache was excruciating, but once he managed to gather his surroundings things started clicking into place.

“I’m in Mirkwood,” he stated. The room was much too large and clean to be one of the tents back in the Desolation. “The battle…” His breath caught in his throat as he remembered the battle. He must have been knocked out at one point to end up here. “Wait,” he mumbled. There was something missing.

“Mithrandir brought you here,” the other elf explained to him. “Both he and King Thranduil have been tending to you, while our duty is to check your health when they are unable. You see, there were many injured during the battle and some require skillful healers to see to their wounds.”

“Were we victorious?” Bilbo wondered.

“We were, but at great cost.”

_Great cost._

_“Bilbo, they are dead. I’m sorry…”_

“Oh,” he moaned, “oh no.” Tears filled his eyes as he gazed up at the elves.

“What is wrong?”

“P-please, please tell me. I seem to remember…” He swallowed hard, pressing one fist against his chest as his other hand gripped the bedsheets. “Thorin Oakenshield,” he gasped, “is he−”

“We heard he fell,” the elf said gently. “He met his fate at the mace of Bolg, son of Azog. The wretched orc escaped, unfortunately, but they say Oakenshield fought valiantly.” The elf bowed her head. “May he rest in−”

“No!” Bilbo shouted. A sudden burst of adrenaline that was fueled only by pure anger made him rip his covers aside and bolt for the door. “I will not hear of this nonsense− _let me go!_ ”

“Master Baggins!”

The elves were far too swift, taking hold of him and placing him in the bed once more.

“Stop holding...unhand me! I have to see him!” Why were these elves doing this to him, filling his throbbing head with more lies?

_But what reason would they have to lie?_

“You will only aggravate you wounds further. Please stop fighting us.”

“Let me go!”

Their grip on him was like cold metal around his wrists and ankles, yet still he squirmed through his exhaustion.

“He is gone. There is nothing−”

“Stop. You’ll only upset him further.”

The next thing he knew another cup was raised to his lips once again, but this time a sickly sweet liquid was being forced down his throat.

“There you go,” a voice soothed as his eyes rolled back in his head. It morphed into a familiar deep tone, and soon he found himself listening to Thorin’s voice. “Take your rest, Bilbo.”

“Thorin,” he whimpered.

“You must stay still so as to not open your wound.” A shadow moved towards him, gently brushing a hand across his forehead. He tried leaning into the touch but his head was much too heavy to lift. “Be at peace.”

“Don’t...don’t leave me.”

“We will be here. Sleep.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

  
  
The next time he came to he was alone. And he remembered everything. The details were hazy, of course, but his heavy heart reminded him that all was far from well. So it was true, Thorin had…

He leaned forward, moaning from both physical and emotional pain. When he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes it only served to make his wound protest yet it was the only thing holding him together.

_How can he be gone? It doesn’t feel true, he can’t be...dead._

He moaned again and this time his body was overcome with wracking sobs. Falling back into the pillows he curled in on himself, crying into the crook of his arm and weakly pounding his fist against the soft mattress.

“D-don’t do this to m-me,” he cried, “T-Thorin, don’t leave me.”

Bilbo did not fall asleep again nor did anyone come in to check on him. He was left to lie there sobbing himself into another headache, but he was thankful for the privacy. It was only late afternoon that he finally had a visitor, though it wasn’t exactly one he was pleased to see.

At that point he had taken to staring at the white wall in front of him, finding that if he allowed himself to focus on that particular part of the room then he could have at least a few moments of reprieve from his relentless grief. It would not last long that time, for almost as soon as he slipped into the blissful state a part of him realized he was no longer alone. With a sigh he tore his gaze from the wall only to startle as pale blue eyes stared back at him. Bilbo was quick to get over his shock, however, and soon he was aware of the look he must have been giving the elf for he did not step into the room at once. How the hobbit managed to speak in a steady tone was beyond him as he could feel the anger boiling inside of him.

“I’m not in the mood for visitors,” he said, “nor am I very good company at the moment.”

“I was informed that you were sleeping,” Thranduil said, his voice careful. “I desired to check the wrapping on your head without disturbing you, but I can see you have been awake for some time.”

Bilbo had to keep himself from sneering, instead ducking his head and breathing in hard through his nose.

“Well?” he wondered. “How does it look?”

“May I enter?”

“I hardly need to invite you into your own room.”

“Indeed not, but I find it is polite to ask.”

Squeezing his eyes shut and counting to ten seemed to help some, to at least keep Bilbo from shouting, but when he looked up again Thranduil still hadn’t moved.

 _How can one elf be so infuriating?_ he thought to himself. _Now I know why Thorin…_

“Come in,” he said, interrupting his own thoughts. He couldn’t afford to lose it in front of the King of the Woodland Realm. Certainly embarrassing himself wouldn’t help the fact that he seemed to be stuck there until he was healed and his pride didn’t need to take any more hits. It was making up for all of the other parts of him that felt dead, so he needed to hang onto what was left of it.

Thranduil finally did walk in, standing beside him and tracing his fingers over his bandage in one swift movement. Bilbo was rigid the entire time, ready to leap out of the bed at one wrong move. Of course Thranduil was only looking him over like all healers do, checking to see that he wasn’t bleeding through the cloth, but he was the last elf Bilbo had any desire to be around.

“It will need to be changed soon, but it is not urgent.” Thranduil pulled away to look down at him. “As I suspected you are healing quite well. It is only that head wounds require much attention and I wish to know that everything is in order for my own peace of mind.”

“Don’t you trust your healers?”

“With my own life,” the elf answered shortly. Bilbo couldn’t help but feel vindicated at the elf king’s tiniest drop in composure even if it was short lived. “I will not lie to you, Master Baggins, but I have grown very fond of you. I care for your safety.”

Bilbo swallowed hard, shocked at first though he was quick to question Thranduil’s motives.

“Really? Surely I am just a halfling to you, one that associates with dwarves no less.”

“You were the one who broke those dwarves out of my heavily guarded prison.”

“How...who told you?”

“So it is true.” Thranduil quirked a smile and Bilbo instantly cursed himself. “No one told me, I assure you. Thorin Oakenshield’s clever burglar−”

“Don’t,” Bilbo snapped, his voice harsh, “say his name. Not around me. Not in a tone that is anything other than respectful.” He wiped angrily at his tears, still maintaining eye contact with the elf. He could handle talking to him, being snarky and rude to his heart’s content if only to relieve some of his anger, but it was cruel for Thranduil to badger wounds that weren’t even in the process of healing yet.

“I also saw your resourcefulness when you came to Bard’s tent,” the king continued on, voice steady again. “You were quite fiery that night, cutting to the quick and having the courage to hand over the Arkenstone. You captured my attention, for I had not seen a hobbit for many years. Have your kind taken to burglaring since then?”

Bilbo couldn’t figure out if Thranduil was mocking him, but the elf’s expression was only inquiring.

“No,” he said carefully. “I’m the odd one out, it seems.”

“What made you join a group of dwarves looking to reclaim their home? I do hope the business of the dragon was brought to your attention before you agreed to go with them.”

“Of course it was. I was just curious, perhaps too curious, and in the end it…” He faltered, finally breaking his gaze and looking down. “Or at least towards the end it gave me more than I could ever have hoped for.”

“You loved him.”

“I was to marry him.” Instinctively Bilbo put a hand up to his braid, shock quickly replaced by a deep sadness when he realized his bead was missing.

 _It must have fallen out during the battle,_ he thought bleakly. _Of course it did. How fitting._

He would _not_ sob in front of the king, no matter how hard he found it.

“You thought that giving the Arkenstone away would rid him of his sickness,” Thranduil went on.

“I didn’t think it would take it away completely,” Bilbo said tiredly, stroking his braid, “but I had to do something.”

“Even when it meant that you betrayed him.” Thranduil inclined his head, holding up a hand in response to Bilbo’s glare. “I wish only for my facts to be correct. What you did was brave, Master Baggins. Not many would betray their, well…”

“My _lover,_ ” he bristled, “to whom I was betrothed, who I still consider myself betrothed to. He may have banished me from his kingdom and from his side for my actions, but never once did he take back his proposal. I still love him with all of my heart and that means I hold no respect for your meddling.”

“I apologize.” Thranduil paused for a moment, icy blue eyes searching Bilbo’s until the hobbit practically vibrated with anger. “I could use someone as stealthy as yourself. If you do not wish to return home then you are welcome to resume your duties as burglar in my kingdom.”

Bilbo was truly stunned for a moment, wondering if what he heard him correctly or if the elf even heard _himself_ and how absurd his words sounded.

“Have you no shame?” he said, how voice dangerously low. He was on his feet before the thought even crossed his mind to do so, instinct kicking in to flee instead of starting a fight he wouldn’t win. “I don’t pretend to know how deep the animosity between dwarves and elves runs, or at least between you and Thorin’s family, but your disrespect for my loyalty to them is not winning me over. I don’t care if you are impressed with me, for your opinion means nothing.” Bilbo’s eyes searched the room for his belongings, decision already made, and he took great care when walking stiffly over to his neatly folded clothes. He was glad to see Sting lying on top of them, but if his ring wasn’t in one of his pockets he knew he would surely use the sword against Thranduil. “I thank you for taking care of me,” he said over his shoulder, “but I am afraid I simply do not have the stomach for a longer stay. I may not have always agreed with Thorin’s deplorable skills at diplomacy, making mistakes and letting his hatred blind him, but to him I remain loyal.”

“Even in death?”

 _Don’t shout, Bilbo,_ he warned himself, _don’t give him the satisfaction._

Bilbo turned fully to Thranduil, a sheathed Sting in his hands and trying to hold his head high even as hot tears streamed down his face.

“Especially so. Leave me, please, I wish to change.”

“I did not wish to cause you any further grief, Master Baggins.”

“You have an uncanny ability to do so even without trying,” Bilbo quipped without abandon.

“Truly it was not my intent,” Thranduil sighed. “I was unaware of how deeply in love you were...you _are,_ ” he corrected, his tone sincere, “but now I see in you something that I am not unfamiliar with.” The elf king turned, and Bilbo thought he was on his way out until he looked back over his shoulder. The smile he offered was laced with a sadness that briefly made the breath catch in the hobbit’s throat. “A broken heart is not an easy matter even after two hundred years, but Mithrandir was right about you. I stand to learn more from you than I ever thought possible.” Bilbo watched as he placed what appeared to be two small medicine bags on one of the tables by the door. “For your travels. One is for your head should the aches from your injury burden you. The other can be applied to any manner of wounds and will ward off infection until proper care is acquired.” He paused for a beat, turning until his back was completely to Bilbo. “I bid you a safe journey, Bilbo Baggins. Know that you will always be considered a friend of Mirkwood.”

Bilbo was practically spitting with anger by the time Thranduil left, shoving the two bags to the bottom of his own without another thought. He needed to get out of there. It felt as if the walls were closing in on him and soon he even struggled for a deep breath. Clutching his chest with one hand, he slung his bag over his shoulder and with his other hand on his knee.

“Just breathe,” he whispered.

“Bilbo?” He was quick to look back up, watching with no small amount of relief as Gandalf walked into the room. The wizard had tears shining in his eyes, the saddest smile Bilbo had ever seen on his lips as his shoulders sagged. "I was so worried about you.”

"Gandalf," Bilbo whimpered. He took a step forward to wrap his arms around the wizard, clinging to him tight. "I'm sorry for leaving you, I just...I wanted to be with them."

"I know, my dear lad, I know."

“I’m not staying here any longer. I can’t!"

“No,” the wizard rumbled, tightening his hold on Bilbo, “I do not think it is the right place for you to be. I only wished for Thranduil to look after you for a time until you were able to get back onto your feet. Clearly that time has come, though I am surprised it has been so short.”

“How long have we been here?”

“When Carnyc brought you to me, I made the journey back here to Thranduil’s halls. I knew he had retreated already to get certain things in order. Since then he has been back and forth tending to the wounded both on the field and who made it back here to stay in the wards, including yourself. You were unconscious for the rest of that day and night. The elves reported a disturbance yesterday, but last night you slept without stirring one bit. I worried so much for you.” Bilbo looked up when Gandalf let out a huff, shaking his head. “To see you so well now, my dear Bilbo, certainly takes a heaviness off of my heart.”

“But I’m not, Gandalf,” he said weakly. “I’m not.”

With a look that broke Bilbo’s heart all over again, the wizard knelt in front of him and took both of his hands into his own.

“Truly this was no mere battle, but the start of a war. If it were not for the eagles and Beorn− yes, he was there too− then I fear none of us would be here. The cost was insurmountable, yet none has suffered as you have, my dear friend. When I say that I am sorry I know that words cannot hope to mend the pain you are going through. It will be something you will live with for the rest of your life, and do not let anyone ever make you feel foolish for your grief, but Bilbo.” Gandalf squeezed his hands, a certain pleading in his eyes that startled the hobbit. “Do not let yourself Fade. Please. Already I have seen that you are ready to give up.”

“Gandalf, I−”

“I know the difference between mourning and Fading. You may think it is too soon for that, but I have seen it too many times.”

“I need to grieve, Gandalf!”

“Yes you do, my boy! Of course you do, but you have to _live_ as well. I knew Thorin Oakenshield, and you knew his heart as well. He would not want this for you.”

"Don't." Bilbo pulled away, turning his back to the wizard and letting his blurry gaze fall to where Sting still lay on the table. He took in one breath, then another until he was able to speak. "Just please...don't." He walked forward and donned the belt once more. The hilt was cool and reassuring against the palm of his hand.

"Bilbo."

"I'm ready," he said steadily, blinking hard before turning on his heel and looking up at Gandalf once again. "Can we just go?"

The wizard looked as if he were about to say something, brow furrowed and his lips in a thin line, but he soon nodded.

"Come along, my lad," he said, straightening himself up. "We have a long journey ahead, and there is someone who will be very glad to see you."

It was an understatement, to say the least, to say that Bilbo and Bofur were happy to see each other. Once they left the Woodland Realm Bilbo was shocked to see the dwarf sitting outside of the gates, hat in both hands as he scuffed at the ground with the tip of his boot.

“Bofur?" he breathed.

His friend looked up, brown eyes soft as a stood and smiled.

“Bilbo, my lad!”

Bilbo trotted to him, not daring to run in his state but desperate to reach him. Once he did he wrapped his arms tight around Bofur’s middle and buried his face in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, “I’m so...so sorry.”

“None of that, now,” Bofur said kindly, hugging him close and running a soothing hand down his back. “I’m just happy to see you alive.”

“And you.”

“Though not without our injuries, I see.” Bilbo felt gently fingers run over his bandage. “That’s a right nasty one.”

Bilbo looked up at that with a frown.

“You were hurt?”

“Me leg’ll never be the same. I don’t reckon you want to see the scar, but I’m thankful it wasn’t any worse.” A sad look overcame him at that and he gave Bilbo a gentle squeeze. “Although I’m sure I would rather it were me then−”

“Don’t say that.” Bilbo shook his head. “Don’t ever say that. He...they…” He swallowed hard, unable to bring himself to even think it.

“I know,” Bofur soothed.

“What brings you here?”

“I wanted to see that you were safe. With me own two eyes, of course. You never can trust word of mouth these days.”

“It is so very good to see you. How are the others? Did...well…”

“Everyone is well, a bit banged up but taking their rest at last.” A pained expression crossed the dwarf’s face as he put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “Will you let me see you off at the Misty Mountains? It’s the least I can do.”

“Of course.” Bilbo’s heart lifted for the first time in days. “Will you be safe travelling back on your own?”

“I’ve arranged an escort for him,” Gandalf chimed in. “No need to worry.”

“Elves,” Bofur mouthed, pretending to gag himself with his finger. Bilbo smiled− or at least tried to− and shook his head.

“I will certainly be glad to have you.”

Indeed, Bofur made for an excellent companion just as he had on the journey. At least part of the time Bilbo would listen to stories he was amazed he had never heard before that coaxed his mind out of increasingly darker places. The nights were still the worst, though, thoughts railing against him and memories reducing him to a shaking mess of denial until he was able to remind himself that his current situation was his life now. He was going back to the Shire, to his home−

_Not your real home anymore._

−his old life, family and friends. Wasn’t that nice?

_Not when your family is dead._

There was one night where Kíli came into his head, just out of nowhere, pulling a silly face at him and winking before running off to join his brother. Bilbo couldn’t help but wonder how they…

_Died._

He wondered how they went. If there was any pain or−

_A quick death._

“Just _stop,_ ” he hissed, clutching his head.

That particular night hadn’t been a good one. He thought he was only running his hands through his hair but he didn’t realize he had been pulling until his hands came away with blood on them. He cursed, trying to stop the bleeding but then his wound never did have the chance to fully heal.

“Bilbo,” a soft voice spoke, causing him to yelp, “let me see.”

He was too tired to be embarrassed, letting Gandalf tend to him as he sat quietly, though he wasn’t too proud of himself for causing such a fuss. Bofur had woken up as well and looked on with concern, but once Bilbo was able to convince him he was fine the dwarf reluctantly returned to his bedroll.

“Are you, Bilbo?” Gandalf murmured afterwards. He wrapped a fresh cloth around Bilbo’s head and already the hobbit felt better for it. Still he offered only a sad, bitter smile.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Without another word he curled up again, preparing himself for either more horrible dreams or a continuation of his sleepless night. He did not anticipate what happened next. Just as he settled in, a solid weight pressed alongside his back. He froze, wondering if perhaps Gandalf put something there to keep help keep him warm, but when it started to move he had to turn and see for himself.

“Just say the word and I’ll be gone,” Bofur whispered. “I know we’re all used to sleeping on top of each other so I thought it might help.”

Bilbo didn’t know what to make of it at first, but then he realized the security he felt with his friend behind him. He turned his back to him again, pressing against him a bit and causing Bofur to drape a solid arm around his middle. His friend was sturdy and warm, but slight in some places other dwarves had bulk. Yet despite this, if Bilbo closed his eyes he could almost imagine someone else resting at his back and holding him through the night. He still didn’t sleep, but it was a welcome comfort.

They were quick to pass through Mirkwood, able to stay on the path and away from the influence of the diseased forest through the help of Gandalf. It came as a surprise to Bilbo and Bofur to learn that they were going to stop at Beorn’s for the night. Still wary of the man, though humbled by the fact that he lent them his aid more than once now including in battle, they gratefully entered his house with relief that they would be truly safe for the night.

After a hearty meal for Gandalf and Bofur, while Bilbo only nibbled on a honeycake, the hobbit was just about to settle in for the night when the man came up to him.

“I am glad to see you well, little one.”

“Yes, I’ve been hearing that a lot.” Bilbo winced after the words came out, trying not to cower as he looked up at Beorn.

“That I do not doubt. You are a brave hobbit, something I am sure you hear a lot of as well, but only because it is true.” He paused from a moment, looking down at his giant hands, and Bilbo was surprised to see regret enter his features. “I am sorry for Oakenshield. I reached him too late, was not able to destroy the orc filth that damaged him, but I was honored to carry him. He spoke kind words to me as I did so.” He gave a great sigh. “If only more dwarves were like him.”

“Those in his company were the greatest dwarves I have ever met,” Bilbo said quickly, although he was deeply touched by the man’s actions. “They were the first, granted, but surely one such as he would have only the best among him.” He too let out a shaky sigh, watching as Beorn met his eyes again.

“That I do not doubt,” he said kindly. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“I am sorry for it too.” Bilbo’s voice was small, weak as the topic at hand constricted his throat. A large hand came to rest on his shoulder. “T-Thank…” He cleared his throat, shaking his head as he closed his eyes. “Thank you for being there for him.”

 _When I could not,_ he added silently.

The hand gave a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

“You will see him again, of that I am sure. Will you sleep tonight?”

After such a statement Bilbo couldn’t keep up with his words at first, but soon he shook his head.

“I, well...I haven’t been.”

“You should, or you will become sick in your journey over the mountains. I made a promise to protect you on this side, but I cannot reach the West as easily.”

“A promise? What do you...wait, hold on.”

Beorn was leading him over to one of his tables, placing a large tankard in front of him while proceeding to rifle around and ignore his questions.

“Warm milk with honey,” he explained instead, pouring the thick white liquid. Bilbo watched as he stirred in the honey, sloshing the milk over the side a bit, but when he caught a whiff his stomach let out a low growl. “Little bunny is hungry.”

“You know, that name isn’t very polite,” Bilbo grumbled, relenting and taking a sip of the milk. He was surprised to find it tasted quite familiar, almost similar to what his mother would make him before bed when he complained he couldn’t sleep.

“Ah, I do not mean any disrespect. I like bunnies very much!” Beorn let out a low chuckle, watching as Bilbo drank. “And I like you very much. Everything is little to me, so that is the word I use, but I can stop if you like.”

“Hmm.” Already Bilbo was starting to feel drowsy as he made quick work of the delicious milk. “Maybe not, but only if you mean well by it.”

“Of course.”

“Then it’s−” he let out a yawn, leaning his head on the table “−fine. Just don’t let anyone know m’okay with it.”

“Our little secret, little bunny.”

Bilbo felt two big arms wrap around him, content with being picked up by the skin-changer he now considered a friend. It gave him some comfort knowing that Thorin once lay in those arms as well, and he drifted off to sleep with that thought in his head.

It was a wonderfully deep sleep at first, but sometime early morning he woke with a violent start. His mind was filled with images he had never even seen before, of Thorin and the princes covered in blood. Why it tortured him in that way he was unsure, only adding to his bereavement, though he knew it was due to being on that battlefield. He still couldn’t go back to sleep after that. After standing up, stretching and trying to get the feeling back in his arms, he wandered over to some of the goats who woke with the dawn and waited for Gandalf and Bofur to stir.

Gandalf made the decision, Beorn obliging, that Bofur should stay behind as he continued on with Bilbo. This was much to Bilbo and Bofur’s dismay, both thinking that the dwarf would go on with them until they reached the foothills of the Misty Mountains, but soon they admitted to the sense in it.

“I do want you to be safe,” Bilbo said. They were out in Beorn’s yard, the day uncharacteristically warm for winter. The bees droned and the dogs played around them, comfortable in their presence at last, but Bilbo only had thoughts for his friend. “Gandalf...I mean, he says the elves will help you−”

“I trust him,” Bofur said reassuringly.

“I trust him too, but we both know what Mirkwood is like.”

“Bilbo.” The hobbit looked into his friend’s brown eyes, concerned when he saw them filled with tears. “You have been a very special friend to me, an old dwarf without a true home.”

“You have one now,” Bilbo said softly.

“Aye, that is true, but I hoped to share it with you after everything you’ve done for us. Maybe once things settle down you can come by for a visit, but uh…” He dug around in his pocket, a small grin on his lips even as a tear slid down his cheek. “I found some jade back in the treasure room and made this. Never had a chance to give it to you.” Bilbo was stunned as a tiny bead was carefully placed in the palm of his hand. It was a pretty, dark green color carved into the shape of a small leaf. “I don’t care much for trees,” Bofur chuckled, “but I know how you like your green things. It’ll bring you safety too, or so they say, but really I just wanted you to remember me.”

“I’ll always remember you.” The hobbit looked up at him, tears in his own eyes now and shaking his head. “Bofur, thank you. Really.” He allowed him to weave the bead into his hair, on the opposite side from where Thorin's braid lay but not as hidden. It was one he wanted everyone to see, to know he was still friends with one of the best dwarves he knew. When Bofur finished, before he could even get a word out, Bilbo was hugging him tight. "I wish there was something I could give to you."

"Trust me when I say you already have." The dwarf kissed the top of his head before ruffling his hair. "Hey, we'll see each other again. You can bet your beard...well, you can bet your hairy toes on that!"

"I truly hope so." Bilbo pulled away and looked up at his friend one last time. "Don't forget me?"

"Couldn't even if I wanted to," Bofur winked, tipping his hat. "You take care, Bilbo Baggins."

"You as well, Bofur."

 _Please stay safe,_ he thought as he followed Gandalf off, turning to wave one last time before losing sight of him.

_Please stay alive._

“He is a good friend to have,” Gandalf said afterwards. Quite some time afterwards, in fact, when they were just crossing over the peak of the mountains.

“Come again?” Bilbo shouted against the whipping winds. It was a horrible day of travel and they hadn’t spoken since beginning their ascent.

“I said Bofur is a good friend!”

So why the old wizard chose to speak to him in that moment, to bring up the dwarf then when they parted company with him two days ago was beyond Bilbo. Then again most things the wizard did were rather unfathomable.

“Yes, yes he is! How much longer until we reach the bottom?”

“Come again?”

“I said how...oh, never mind,” he grumbled.

In retrospect they should have found another route to travel by, especially during that time of year. Though perhaps not immediately but during _sometime_ in Gandalf’s life he would have admitted the same. As it was, they turned out to be rather fortunate to not have been eaten by wargs, captured by goblins (again), have an avalanche come crashing down on them, or any number of things that were known to occur over those particular mountain passes. Perhaps Bilbo was finally given a break, although as frozen as he was to the bone he didn’t exactly see it that way during that time. When they finally did reach the bottom, though, the relief and exhaustion that flooded through him was enough to grant him a decent sleep for at least one night.

He was of course not so lucky the nights after that, keenly missing Bofur’s presence and feeling very much alone despite having Gandalf with him. It wasn’t as if the wizard talked much anyway. He was taken to sitting in silence every now and then when he wasn’t constantly leading Bilbo on. With the rate they were going Bilbo thought it most unfair that he wasn’t more tired during the night when he needed his sleep the most. It made for a moody and slightly less understanding Gandalf when he couldn’t keep up at times.

“I know you are very much aware of the orcs and wargs that are found in these parts,” the wizard said sternly one day, “and you will meet them again if you keep falling behind!”

“First of all,” Bilbo puffed, “I have shorter legs. Second, do I _look_ as if I have the strength to do so?”

Gandalf stopped mid-stride at this and rounded on him, causing the hobbit to jump back.

“You haven’t been sleeping again,” his friend murmured after studying him for a moment. “You’ve become much too good at hiding that from me. Why?”

“I don’t want to worry you, and it’s not as if sleep helps anyway.” Bilbo looked off to the side, shaking his head. “Nightmares, you know. Things I haven’t even seen, haven’t experienced. Well, I’m making them up but they certainly keep me awake. Then there are the ones I _have_ been through.” At this he gave a cynical smile. “Those are my favorites. Thorin angry with me, threatening to kill me after all we’ve been through...Kíli looking at me like, like he can’t believe I would do such a thing. Betray all of them.” He swallowed hard, moving over to sit down on a nearby log. “It never leaves me, Gandalf. If I knew how to stop it I would, but I can’t. It’s just part of me now.

“Only if you let it be.” Gandalf sat next to him with a grunt, taking off his hat and worrying at the rim with his fingers. “Do you remember what I said to you about Fading?”

“Of course.”

“Have you given it any thought?”

“It’s not something hobbits think about often, unless they knew someone who went through it.”

“Your father did after your mother’s passing.”

“I am very well aware of that, thank you.”

“Forgive me for picking at old memories, but I only wish to bring to your attention the fact that you know the symptoms.”

“Why are you so worried about this right now?” Bilbo looked up at him with a frown. Gandalf sighed heavily, placing a hand on his arm.

“I know how much you loved Thorin. It was the same love your father had for Belladonna, and I know this because I was there when his love for her took hold of him. It never let him go and he allowed it to drag him all of the way down until he could no longer resurface after she died. Call me selfish, be irate with me, but I do not want you to follow in your father’s footsteps. Do not go after Thorin. Not yet.”

“I don’t have any intention to,” Bilbo said softly. As much as it pained him to admit it, he didn’t feel any desire for such a thing.

“Good. That is good, but if you allow yourself to waste away instead that is worth than death itself.”

“I understand, Gandalf.”

“I should hope so.” The wizard had a strange look about him for a time, as if he couldn’t quite put his finger on something. That always sent a chill down Bilbo’s spine.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know why I feel so strongly about this,” he murmured. “Obviously I care for you a great deal, but...ah, it is nothing, my dear lad. Nothing that won’t come to light in time.

Bilbo could say with confidence that he was through with his share of Gandalf’s riddles, making a vow never to pay them any mind from that day forward. There were to be no more riddles, however, not in their travels to Rivendell. Sure the secret passageway was one in and of itself, but Gandalf was quick to crack it once again.

In short it was a nice stay, but it sadly lacked the mystique Bilbo had felt so profoundly the first time he arrived with the company. He was still in love with the place, the elves were still kind and fascinating to him− definitely preferable to the ones in Mirkwood− and Lord Elrond was nothing but accommodating. He found comfort in a soft bed once more and was even allowed free run of the many libraries, yet after the first two days not much seemed to hold his attention for very long.

“Gandalf,” he said, approaching his friend on the third day. One look was all the wizard needed to know Bilbo was ready to move on

“Of course, my dear boy.”

And so they made for the Shire at last. His old home with the lush green rolling hills, covered in a light snow now but come spring the land would be bountiful once more. It was still a bit warmer there compared to where they came from, though as they passed through Whitfurrows and Frogmorton Bilbo could see hobbits bundled up against the cold. It gave him pause for a moment, looking down at the coat given to him by Beorn. Certainly it kept him warm as they went over the mountains, but it was much simpler than the weighty garments worn by the others. Either Beorn had some sort of secret material that he used or Bilbo had become acclimatized for he couldn’t imagine any hobbit surviving such a trek even with their heavy gear.

 _Yet perhaps I am being too harsh,_ he thought, _for I was once a simple hobbit as well. I never even used to like winter!_

He still didn’t, for that matter, but at least he didn’t mind it so much now. He knew what the elements were truly capable of when they felt up to mischief.

“Here we are at last, my dear fellow.”

Looking up, Bilbo watched as Hobbiton came into view. It was startling how unchanged it was, just as he left it with the exception of the snow.

“Remarkable,” he said, voice dry.

How could he even be here knowing he would never go back again? He loved Hobbiton with all of his heart, loved the home his father built for his mother, but he had a home for himself he had hoped to build up too. The foundations crumbled before he could even start.

“Roads go ever on and on,” he whispered, eyes tracing over the land, “like rivers flow into the sea…yet strong trees fall when roots are gone, and in the end there’s only me.

“Bilbo.” A hand came down to gently squeeze his shoulder. “Come along."

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

  
  
It wasn’t a very peaceful day back for poor Bilbo. His solemnity did not last for very long for upon arriving, he was mortified to find on that very day all of his things were being auctioned off, including Bag End itself! He caused quite a stir when he charged into the middle of it all, scolding them all and threatening to stick them with Sting if they didn’t return his things. Later he would admit it hadn’t been one of his finer moments, and it certainly was no way to announce his return, but it did help to get every single item back in its rightful place.

After wrangling the rest of his silver spoons out of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins's grubby hands he come upon his door for perhaps the tenth time that day. Only that time he finally noticed something peculiar about it. Running back and forth with a number of things on his mind distracted him from it, but now that he was at least content with having all of his belongings back he was able to consider the mark on his door when his eyes fell on it. For one thing it was still there. This surprised him, for although he hadn't seen what Thorin had mentioned back when the company first came to Bag End the rune was almost impossible to miss now that he noticed it. That wasn't what made him curious, though.

When Gandalf stopped by the next day, accepting Bilbo's offer to stay in Bag End now that he had the place back to normal, he finally brought up the question eating at his mind during tea.

"Gandalf, you know that mark you put on my door the night the company came?"

"Hmm, yes, I think I remember doing so."

"It's still there, you know."

"Is it indeed? Most curious..."

"I thought it was some sort of spell." Bilbo looked at Gandalf hard, knowing when he was trying to hide something. The wizard never was terribly good at keeping secrets from him. "Spells wear off after a time, do they not?"

"Some do."

"And that one doesn't?"

Gandalf shifted in his seat, looking down as he puffed on his pipe.

"Do you want me to remove it?" he finally asked.

Bilbo didn't answer at first, standing to fetch more hot water for the tea. He stood fiddling with his cup, staring into the fire for a moment before deciding against it.

“Would you like any more?” he mumbled.

“Tea? No, thank you, one cup will do.”

Bilbo nodded distractedly, placing his own cup aside before turning back to Gandalf.

“Leave it up.”

“You want me to leave it?” Gandalf frowned.

“I believe that is what I just said, yes.” He took his seat again, across from his friend, and sat straight up in his chair. “It stands for burglar, does it not?”

“In a way, yes."

“And that is what I am. That was how I was remembered, anyway, and I believe in holding true to one’s title.”

Gandalf afforded him a wary look, shaking his head slightly before reaching across the table to gently squeeze his hand.

“So it shall be, Bilbo Baggins,” he murmured, “so it shall be."

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

  
  
Far away, over the Misty Mountains and the vast stretch of the dark forest of Mirkwood, a young prince stirred in his sleep. One brown eye opened, then another. A groan burst from his lips as pain slowly came back to him. As he regarded his surroundings− a tent for the wounded, Fíli on his right and Thorin on his left, both unconscious− memories flashed through his mind of a horrible battle.

“Laddie,” someone said. “My lad, are you with us?”

He groaned again in response, gazing up to find a white haired dwarf staring back down at him with tears in his eyes.

“B-Balin?”

“Hold on, Kíli, don’t move. Let me fetch you some water.”

He was alive. Squeezing his eyes shut once before opening them wide again, he looked to either side of him once more. Awake before his uncle and beloved One, before both kings to the throne of Erebor. He worried for them, wondered how they fared and if they would ever wake again. His own head was swimming and black spots danced before his eyes, but he knew what it meant.

“We start now,” he heard a voice speak from outside. “As long as he is with us, we need to prepare him.”

He didn't have to have a clear mind to know of the responsibility that now lay on his shoulders, even as he slipped back into unconsciousness. Certainly not when it had been ingrained in him all of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness with this one. It was quite a challenge to write, and of course its length just kept gradually increasing. Well, again, THANK YOU for sticking with this story. It's been an absolute joy, and I'm so happy I worked up enough courage to share it. As I've said before, there will be a second part to this series called "Slow and Steady." I'm still working out a lot of the details but I've been playing around with the idea of offering different POV's with each chapter, making the entire story a big segue into the third part in the series which deals with Bilbo back in Erebor. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated. I'd truly love to hear from you guys! As always you can find me over on Tumblr, or message me here. I'll see you at the next one! <3
> 
> \- - -
> 
> pen tithen- little one

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics by Led Zeppelin
> 
> Series title by Bob Dylan


End file.
